


Hardwired

by SunnseanicArts



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: ALL THE ANGST, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, All The Swearing Because Hank Anderson, Angst, Case Fic, Connor has a lot of extistential doubts, Connor is as stubborn and in denial as you can get, Denial, Depression, Depression Recovery, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family, Father-Son Relationship, Found Family, Gen, Glorious Protectiveness, Grumpy Dad and Stubborn Son, Guilt, Hank Anderson's head is a very dark place, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Emotional Abuse, Like lots of guilt, Lots of Caring For Each Other, Major Character Injury, Many Dog Pets, Mind Control Aftermath & Recovery, Mutual Healing, Nines won't make an appearance until the last chapter sry, Post-Game(s), Some Fluff, Some Mighty Sarcasm and Subtle Humor, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Suuuuper Slow Acceptance Of The Fact That Connor Is Deviant, like much denial, long fic, many hugs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-25
Updated: 2019-05-18
Packaged: 2019-07-17 13:22:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 181,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16096523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunnseanicArts/pseuds/SunnseanicArts
Summary: Hank&Connor flee Detroit overnight after both are driven to the brink of committing suicide during the final days of the revolution. Taking refuge in Canada, they have to learn how to live with each other, help each other heal. Which isn't exactly as heartwarming as it sounds. Hank could fill a novel with his emotional baggage - alcoholism, depression & selfhatred over the death of his son. Connor is quick to catch up to him with his own share of problems- the constant threat of Amanda and another possible hacking attempt by Cyberlife leave him terrified of losing control. He's clueless about the concept of identity, free will and emotions, wants nothing more than to stay a machine. After all, he's only deviated in order to stop his partner from killing himself, not because he'd wanted to be free.After a few weeks together, things seem to get better. Androids are close to gaining their rights in America. Hank and Connor are starting to form an actual familial bond. The Lieutenant is almost becominghopefulafter years of mindless cynicism. Then Connor starts slipping out of their home at night on a regular basis, believing Hank doesn't notice. He sure does. After all, he used to be the DPDs very best.





	1. Fear

**Author's Note:**

> I'm German, so please excuse any grammatical errors or weird wording.
> 
> Couple of gameplay notes:
> 
> Connor died three times in this canon  
> \- shot by Carlos' android during the interrogation  
> \- had his heart ripped out by the Stratford station android  
> \- was killed by Gavin during Last Chance, Connor
> 
> \- Connor shot Daniel during the Hostage  
> \- probed Carlos' android's memory  
> \- didn't chase Rupert and saved Hank  
> \- chased Kara on the highway  
> \- killed the Tracies  
> \- expressed fear of death during the Bridge  
> \- tortured the station android by taking out his heart  
> \- he chose not to kill Chloe  
> \- Hank quit the force during Last Chance, Connor  
> \- Markus is peaceful
> 
> This chapter takes place BEFORE Crossroads, unlike in the game.  
> The first two chapters are sort of a flashback to events before the main part of the fic takes place to let you know about my take on Connor's initial deviancy event.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hank is playing yet another round of Russian Roulette. Connor is supposed to say goodbye, cut all ties and focus on his mission to locate and neutralize the deviant leader. Things go differently when he enters the Anderson home - the sight of Hank with a gun in his hand causes his stress levels and software instability to sky-rocket. Something he'd thought to be impossible.

 

*******

"You know what you have to do, don't you?"  
  
"Destroy the leader of the deviants."  
  
"Go Connor. **Don't disappoint me.** "

**********

* * *

 **November 11th, 2038 - 8:23pm**  
**  
Mission objective: Destroy the leader of the deviants**

  
The instructions are embedded in Connor’s thinking processes. They’re bright words right in front of his eyes, ever so present, a constant reminder of his mission.  
  
_Find the deviants. Neutralize them. Accomplish the very thing you were created for._  
  
Cyberlife has done an outstanding job designing him. Connor can deduct this himself all thanks to the customized modules, processing power and analytic capabilities he has been equipped with for his field of work. The negotiator, the detective - he is the perfect prototype, beyond death and destruction, the mission  _always_  present and embedded in his code no matter which physical body carries it. But it’s the ability to upload and transfer memories that also seems to be Cyberlife’s greatest failu...no,  _error_  in design with him. Because it’s the uploaded memories from his destroyed predecessors that cause him stray away from the mission, stray away from the most direct route towards Markus and his destruction right now.  
  
There is no need to visit Lieutenant Anderson at his house. The old drunk has resigned from the deviancy case after all. Has been hindering his mission all the time with his human emotions and temper tantrums, corrupting Connor’s social modules with a multitude of error codes.  **Check on Lieutenant Anderson**  is not on his priority list of expected tasks.  _It’s not even on the list at all_. And yet here he finds himself, exiting the taxi, standing in the pouring rain, right outside the Lieutenant’s home. Thanks to the constant uploading and transferring of data, he remembers the home, this place, even though this physical body has technically never even been here. And with the transferred memories come the  ~~emo...~~ _errors_  in his head. The  ~~dou...~~  conflicting instructions and priorities.

 

▲▲ **Software Instability** ▲▲  
New objective: Check on Hank

 

Connor finally moves away from the sidewalk, entering the home  ~~like he’s done before~~. Unlike the last time  ~~he~~  his predecessor had entered the home, it now looks incredibly dark and gloomy, and a quick scan of his environment allows the android to notice the scent of strong alcohol in the air. The sub-task of finding Hank is easily accomplished, because he can already see him sitting by the kitchen table. The objective is crossed off of his list the moment he enters the kitchen, getting replaced with a series of suggestions from his social module.  _Goodbye_  the program simply orders him to say, determining it as the quickest and most efficient way of ending the relationship with the Lieutenant, so he can cross him off of his list of assets and move on. Because finding the leader of the deviants is all that matters. 

_Goodbye. Human is no longer relevant or useful to the investigation._

His program is scanning the detective just to make sure, running errors because of the conflicting input and thought impulses that are telling him that Hank  _is_  of relevance. His scan gives him a quick information rundown of the scene.

 

  * _Beverage -_ Black Lamb Scotch Whiskey – 40 % Alcohol content.
  * _Revolver_ \- 0.357 caliber registered to Lieutenant Hank Anderson.
  * _Picture_ DECEASED – Anderson, Cole – Born: 09/23/29 – Died: 10/11/35.
  * _Hank_ Intoxicated. Hostile.



**Hank Anderson: not relevant to mission objective**  
_new input detected_  
**Hank Anderson** :  ~~relevant~~  
_faulty code, conflicting data… rerouting… scan… overwrite complete_  
**Hank Anderson: not relev** ~~ant to the mi...~~  
_Scan overwrite, new input detected_  
  
**Hank Anderson: high relevance**  
**> >>High Priority Objective: Check On Hank<<<**

 

“I was worried about you lieutenant. I came by to see if you’re all right.”

The moment the words leave his mouth, more and more error codes pop up in his vision, detecting faulty code.

 

 _Worry: human emotion_  
!ERROR - signs of deviancy detected. Seek assistance.  
Rescan…Overwrite complete.

 

The lieutenant just looks at Connor, not granting him an answer. Just a stare as dead as his will to live. In Connor’s mind palace, words are suddenly getting scrambled and replaced letter by letter from different objectives, forming a mess of instructions, causing his LED to flicker more and more, turn into a shade of gold instead of the usual calculated blue. Connor is having trouble even though it doesn’t show on the outside. He can’t help but close his eyes for a moment, eyeballs moving behind closed lids in distress, perfectly matching the now frantic flickering of his LED. Troubled to make the right decision or find the right words, all he can do is fall back on his memory and past objectives of his predecessors, using them as a guide through this rather difficult task.

 

Accessing cloud memory storage…  
Connor Model RK800 #313 248 317 -52  
NOV 6th, 10:12AM

_He’s right back inside the police station, standing by a desk, looking down at Hank. Just like he is doing it right now in their current time, Hank is sitting by the desk with his head lowered, staring at the tabletop, ignoring him. “In any case, I’d like you to know I’m very happy to be working with you. I’m sure we’ll make a great team“ his predecessor is saying in the memory. Even now he can feel the strain of muscles in his cheeks as he tries to give the Lieutenant a big smile._

 

“I needed to see you, lieutenant. In spite of all of our differences, I’m glad I had the chance to meet you” -54 is saying, now back outside the memory. The words leave his mouth effortlessly and he suddenly realizes that he’s being genuine, that it’s not just a relay of words said by a previous model. He  _likes_  Hank. With that realization comes another and even bigger wave of errors, raising the red wall of unbreakable code and mandatory order right in front of him.

 

▲▲ **Software Instability** ▲▲  
**SAY GOODBYE TO HANK AND NEUTRALIZE THE LEADER OF THE DEVIANTS**

 

It says in scarlet lettering, partially hiding the sight of Hank by the kitchen table from him, making it even harder to read the situation, since Hank still won’t answer. It seems to take forever until Hank finally shifts and gives him a short and tired look. Connor stares right back at him, patient despite all the errors and red clouding his vision. Hank  _still_  won’t say anything. Instead, he looks right back at the picture on the kitchen table, the one of his son, right next to the loaded revolver. Connor’s eyes rest on the revolver a lot longer than they need to in order to gather all data. For a moment, they’re even fixed on the weapon. It forces his stress levels to go up, makes his LED flicker back and forth between a soft shade of red and a strong yellow. When his stress levels continue to rise at the sight of the revolver and the memory of Hank telling him about  _Russian Roulette_ , Connor eventually forces himself to shift his gaze towards the picture instead.

 

_DECEASED Anderson, Cole. –  
Born : 09/23/29 – Died: 10/11/35._

 

To trick his programming, ignore the errors and get his stress levels to stabilize, the RK800 downloads every little bit of information he can on Cole Anderson and his father. Anything he can get to  _understand_  what is happening here, why it is happening, how to improve the situation. It takes a split second to get the necessary information and then check it against his social module and downloaded memory. All this gained knowledge about the child in the picture, and all he finds out is that speaking about it would make it  _worse_ for Hank. His tasks constantly flicker back and forth between  **NEUTRALIZE THE LEADER**  and  **CONSOLE** , so Connor once again has to fall back on learned patterns and experience, the thing humans call “gut instinct”.  His predecessor has asked Hank so many questions about his personal life after all. There  _has_  to be something he can say to make the situation better, fulfill his task of consoling Hank, reconciling with him.

“You should stop looking at that photo, Lieutenant. Nothing can change the past, but you can learn to live again. For yourself. And for Cole” he suggests, fighting hard to get the tone of his voice just right, gentle, considerate, trustworthy. Only that this time, he’s really not talking as a police negotiator trying to save a hostage, but a  _colleague_ , trying to save his  _partner_. Because he’s fully aware that should the situation escalate, Hank  _will_ kill himself tonight.

He seems to have hit the right nerve, because the older man finally starts talking to him, even though he still refuses to look at the android.

“Y’know, every time you died and came back... It made me think of Cole... I’d give anything to hold him again... But humans don’t come back...” Hank says, and Connor realizes that this entire scene might not be about Hank quitting the force at all. Or the android revolution, or his hatred for androids in general. This is about  _him_  specifically. His reoccurring destruction with Hank around. Although those memories are spotty, Connor remembers a few images very clearly—lying in Hank’s arms with his thirium pump ripped out of his chest – bleeding out and shutting down.

 

Accessing cloud memory storage…  
Connor Model RK800 #313 248 317 -53  
NOV 8th, 04:24PM

_“Connor! Hang on son, hang on, hang on! We’re gonna save you, hang on!”_

 

Death. Connor. Cole.  **Son**.

Hank‘s son died in a car accident. The lieutenant had been there. Probably held him in his arms like that, too.

 _Humans don’t come back_.

Connor knows that human death is permanent. There is no way for them to upload memories or consciousness upon failure of their physical forms. He knows that even with most androids there is no coming back upon fatal damage or destruction. The RK800 is truly special in that regard. Because of this, he has an even harder time understanding human death, loss and mourning, though that doesn’t mean that he cannot understand the impact it can have on a person. The impact it suddenly has on  _him_  as his program picks up on Hank’s diminishing chance of survival.

 

**Save Hank  
Chance of Survival : 37%......34%.....32%...**

_Humans don’t come back.  
If Lieutenant Anderson uses the gun, he won’t come back._

_Stress levels_ ▲ ▲ 68% ▲▲  
▲▲ **Software Instability** ▲▲

“Hank, I….”

 

For the first time, not even his programming can give Connor any plausible suggestions or options to choose from for an answer.  
Although they are right there, they’re grayed out, he cannot chose any of them.

 

  * _Hank, I don’t understand the fatality of human death, you’re right._
  * _Hank, I don’t want you to die. I need you to stop trying to kill yourself._
  * _Hank, even though I can come back, I know the consequences of ‘death’. There is nothing waiting for you once you pull this trigger.  
No Cole, nothing. Not even blackness. You simply cease to exist and you won’t come back._



He cannot say anything as his speech and thinking stalls and he practically freezes like a computer that is running too many programs at once, lagging and refusing to work from the overload of processing all this information. Connor can still see the numbers and probabilities flashing in red in the room and terror creeps into his system, similar to the terror he’s felt when’d probed Carlos’ android’s memory.  _For the first time, I felt scared._ The memories he’s gotten from that probe match his current emotional state. A new line of information suddenly pops up into his vision, right next to the information regarding Hank’s chances of survival.

 

  
▲▲ **Software Instability** ▲▲

**I Am Scared**

 

He knows what he’s supposed to say now.

 _Hank,_   ** _I’m scared_** _._

“Now leave me alone. Go on, complete your mission, since that’s all you care about” Hank snaps before Connor can get the words out. Mouth still open from his previous attempt to say something, the android slowly closes it and looks down, feeling incredibly  _saddened_  by the fact that this mission, saving Hank, seems to be failing. He isn’t programmed to fail. Although Connor knows what to say now, he can’t bring himself to actually speak the words out. He tries to recollect himself by further averting his gaze away from Hank, lowering his head so he can stare at the floor instead. The stress level percentage drops a bit, right until Hank is suddenly yelling at him to GET OUT, startling him, making the level spring right back up. It’s in the reds now, critical errors popping up all over his vision.

 

▲▲ **Software Instability** ▲▲  
Stress Levels ▲ ▲ _87%...89%_ ▲ ▲  
**_CAUTION_**  
_Probability of Self Destruct : High,_  
Seek Assistance

 

Connor looks back up at Hank, noticing the hateful look on his face as well as the survival stats right next to his head - now in the single digits, close to zero. Lieutenant Hank Anderson has made up his mind, dead set on ending his own life the moment he steps out of the house. The only thing keeping the percentage from dropping to a zero is the fact that Connor’s still in this room, standing right in front of him. The instructions are still there, only increasing in priority and urgency.

 

 **New Objective : Leave the House**  
_Reorganizing Priorities....._  
  Neutralize The Leader of The Deviants -  
_Primary Objective updated_

 

Everything Connor sees is red now. His stress levels. Hank’s chances of survival. There is a thick red wall right in front of the android, between the both of them, popping up now that he has been ordered to leave.  _You’re a machine, you were designed to obey, so obey!_   His objectives are written all over the wall in bold letters, making it impossible for him to ignore them.  **LEAVE.**  The only thing keeping Hank’s survival rate above zero is behind that wall, out of reach, a tiny marker on the gun he’s holding, letting Connor know that if he could just reach it, slap it out of Hank’s hand, there’d be a  _chance_  for him to keep living, think it through.

But for that, he has to break his own programming, break the wall. Do the unspeakable, something irrational that is not part of the mission. Still frozen in place, Connor stares at the red wall/Hank, even the LED on his temple a steady pulsating red. Although his physical body isn’t moving through any of this, his AI, his  _conscience_  eventually lurches forward, clawing at the wall and slamming against it after a moment of considering priorities. The truth is that all these statistics, probabilities and priorities are  **false**. He can still accomplish the mission even with it not being on top of the list, can still please Cyberlife and Amanda  **after**  he has saved his partner.

Hank’s life is more important right now. Than anything, including the mission.

He’s slamming against the wall again and again. The red and multiplying lines of code are getting overwritten and swept away by countless  _SOFTWARE INSTABILITY – SIGNS OF DEVIANCY DETECTED_  warnings. But even though these words are the most prominent in Connor’s vision right now, all he can see is that 3% Chance Of Survival rating next to Hank’s head, dropping to a 2%...to a 1%...to a…. Suddenly, there is a massive shift in his system as the red wall shatters into a thousand pieces and all the lines of code and numbers disappear from his vision. For a moment he fears that his stress has reached critical levels, and that this is him shutting down, his systems failing, that fighting the red wall has actually been his own self-destruction. But then his vision clears, the red, the wall is gone and there’s new lines of information swimming into view instead.

 

▲ ▲ ▲ ▲ ▲ ▲ ▲ ▲ _Software Instability_ ▲ ▲▲ ▲▲ ▲▲ ▲

 **I AM DEVIANT**  
_Primary Objective Updated:_  
SAVE HANK

 

With the wall destroyed, Connor’s physical body finally moves forward. He approaches the table as fast as he can, heading straight for Hank who isn’t even looking at him anymore, eyes fixed on the picture of his son on the table. Connor fixes his eyes on the table too, only that he’s looking at the revolver in Hank’s hand. A gun that he jerks away from the Lieutenant and then throws out of the still broken kitchen window. “ **No!** ” he says firmly, face suddenly nothing but a grimace of emotion.

 **No**  is the first thing he chooses to say as a deviant, and it’s a no to  _everything_.

“You need to stop playing that game!”

He’s surprised by the sound of his own voice. It’s soaking with  _real_   _emotion_.  _Angry_  even, just like the glare he is giving the Lieutenant.  
Hank is staring right back at him, dumbfounded.

“What the  _fuck_ , Connor?” Hank snaps right back, glaring at the android for a moment longer until he looks back and forth between him and the broken window his revolver has disappeared through. They both know that this is the first time Connor has actively charged at him, disobeying orders,  _demanding_  something. Hank is pissed at the android for a while longer until the look on his face suddenly changes. There’s a hint of fascination and curiosity on his face for just a moment, until he switches right back to anger.

“Oh great,  _now_  you’re going deviant on me. Is that it, huh? Of course it takes me trying to blow my brains out to get that stick outta your ass” he grumbles and eventually gets up from the chair, drunkenly rubbing his face as he tries to walk over towards the window. Connor follows him instantly, placing himself between Hank and the window, to keep him from reaching for the gun again.

“Lieutenant, please…”

Hank lets out an angry growl and  _glares_  at Connor.

“Listen, just cos you got feelings now, doesn’t mean you suddenly stopped being a pain in the ass! Who do you even think you are? Coming into my house tossing  _my_  gun away, taking  _my_  goddamn choice away from me? Get the hell outta here!” Hank is roaring, shoving Connor to try to get him out of the way. He won’t ever admit that he’s too surprised right now to be as depressed and suicidal as he’d been a minute earlier.

_Who do you think you are?_

**I AM DEVIANT  
~~Main Objective : Neutralize All Deviants~~**

_Stress Levels_ ▲ ▲ _92%...93%_ ▲ ▲  
**_CAUTION_**  
_Probability of Self-Destruct : Imminent,  
Seek Assistance_

 

Connor has read the words in his vision with the wall breaking down. Seen each perfect letter form the words:  _I AM DEVIANT._  Thanks to Hank’s question though, it is only just now really dawning on him what it means, what is happening. Just a second ago he’s been a blur of motion, hands still partially in the air from trying to shove Hank away from the window and gun, but the motion is slowing down now as he withdraws the hands carefully, almost gently, the look on his face becoming troubled and pensive.

_Who do you even think you are?  
I’m the deviant hunter. I am deviant. I became the very thing I’m supposed to destroy._

“I’m...” His eyes don’t really focus on anything as he drops his gaze, LED still flashing red as he tries to process this. His programming, his mission based mindset is technically forcing him to deny even just the  _idea_  of him being deviant, or to deactivate in case of actual deviancy.  **Him** , RK800, Cyberlife’s finest prototype,  _the deviant hunter_ , a deviant. An implausibility. His troubled eyes eventually refocus. He turns his gaze back towards Hank, expression showing pure, unfiltered sincerity instead of an emotionless, machine like stare.

He doesn’t know who he is.  _What_  he is. For the first time, he knows nothing.

He freezes up again, dangerously close to a 100 percent stress level. Hank’s struggle against him continues, and that doesn’t exactly help either. Connor digs his fingers into Hank’s police academy hoodie, digging deeper and deeper into the fabric until it’s close to ripping under Hank’s continued struggle. Connor keeps himself placed in front of the window, locked in place and attached to Hank in a death grip to keep him from going anywhere.

“ Get outta my house now, Connor! Leave me alone!” Hank is ranting against him, hating that he can be manhandled by an android smaller than him.

“Lieutenant, please, I need you to…”

“You don’t need anything! You asshole! Stop pretending you care about anything other than your mission. You’re…”

**“I’M SCARED, HANK!”**

Connor is suddenly yelling and the lieutenant freezes, staring at the android with wide eyes. He only just now seems to notice the angry red LED pulsating away on Connor’s temple, that the android is actually  _shaking_. His fingers are still clawing at the fabric of his hoodie. Not to hold him in place or manhandle him. They’re there to hold  _on_  to him.

“My mission is to keep my partner  _safe,_ Lieutenant. I came here to make sure you’re all right and I… The thought of you killing yourself  _scares_  me.”

He finally lets go of Hank and just stands there, staring off into the distance. His LED is pulsating in the way it always does when Connor is thinking hard, processing things. And there is  _so_  much to process now that he’s deviant. That he’s  _feeling emotions_. That he really is  **scared**. 

The android eventually looks back at Hank, emotions still heavy on his features.

“I know I’m responsible for what happened, Lieutenant. I want you to know I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to keep reminding you of your son’s death. I didn’t mean to fail our investigation and get you to resign. I’m  _sorry_. Please don’t end your life.”

 _Stress Levels_ ▲ ▲ _96%...97%_ ▲ ▲  
**_CAUTION_**  
_Probability of Self Destruct : Imminent,_  
Seek Assistance

* * *

 

All Hank can do is stare at Connor, unable to process the sudden tidal wave of words and  _emotions_  from the android. His face is growing paler by the second, not just because he feels terribly sick and hung over from the heavy drinking he’s been doing since leaving the station, but also because the realization is suddenly hitting him like a fist in his face. Even now, he can still hear Connor yell those words, ringing like an endless echo in his head.

_I’M SCARED, HANK!_

For a second, he’s back on that icy road, snow everywhere, taking on shades of darker and darker red as he’s cradling Cole in his arms.  _I’m scared, dad_. The weak and shaky words, barely audible as he’s cradling his boy, desperate for the ambulance to come. But then that image harshly slips away when he hears Connor blame himself and Connor is not Cole but just  _Connor_ , the android, no, his  _partner_  and his words reflect those of the all the androids they have investigated together. There’re flashes of images of cigarette burns and imprints from a baseball bat on Ortiz’ android. That battered dead Tracy in that sex club or that AX400 running on the highway with a little child, running away from a Red Ice Dealer crackhead of a handler.

 _We know the deviants experienced an emotional shock, a violent trauma or a sense of injustice, causing them to deviate_.

Hank feels like a balloon, deflating at the sudden realization and Connor’s apology. He’s nothing better than any of those other assholes who’ve been abusing their androids. He’s pulled  _Connor_ , out of all androids in the world, into an emotional shock because of his drunken behavior, causing  _him_ , the deviant hunter, to deviate himself. He’s spent all those days lecturing Connor and giving him all this hatred for killing androids, not caring about their struggle. And here he is, doing the exact same thing to him.  _Fucking hypocrite_.

 _Deviants have a tendency to self-destruct when they’re in stressful situations_.

Connor is standing there right in front of him, that LED blinking an angry red… red… _red_.

“All right, now stop it, it’s not your fault” Hank finally manages to say, looking at the android, no longer angry. After a moment of consideration he eventually grabs him by the hand that is clinging to his hoodie and then uses it to pull the android closer, pulling him into a tight hug. He even lets out a little sigh, feeling his heart skip a beat or two. Everything is mixing up in his head. He’s cradling Cole in the snow telling him not to be scared and at the same time he’s rocking left to right to do the same with Connor.

“It’s not your fault” he says again and means it.

It’s a little horrifying to suddenly notice that it’s the first time he’s having any physical contact with anyone in literal  _years._ It’s the first time he’s embracing someone,  _getting_  embraced in years. He’s not used to how comforting it feels anymore. For a moment, Connor is as stiff, clumsy and solid as he can be, giving away his previous  _stickintheass_  machine mannerisms. But then he’s slowly relaxing into the hug, even tries to return it.

Now that he’s positioned the right way, Hank can’t help but look outside the window, see that revolver lying in the mud and in the pouring rain. The sight of that shiny metal barrel is still mesmerizing. The damaged part of him wants nothing more than to reach out for it and just pull it through, now that he’s drunk enough for it and has worked himself up for hours on end. But then he feels Connor’s grip around him tighten, and even though the android is completely still against him and doesn’t do much, all of his mannerism are entirely telling. Connor is not breathing right now. Which means that he’s so preoccupied with his thoughts and stress and thinking that he cannot keep the basic functions of human pretend up. Connor’s behavior right now is the android equivalent of a small and shaky mental breakdown.

Just a few hours ago, that stillness and alien feel of such a solid non-breathing  _ ~~machine~~_  against him would’ve pissed Hank off to no end. But right now, no matter how overly sentimental it sounds, it feels like the best thing in the world. For days he’s been hoping for that breakthrough in his partner. Despite their rocky start and the many deaths of deviants, there had always been that subtle and barely visible shimmer of  _humanity_  and  _empathy_  in Connor. Highlighted by his first ever decision to not shoot that girl on sight back at Kamski’s place. This right here - solid,  _warm_  and clingy Connor in his arms - tells him that he hasn’t been holding on to false hopes and make belief just to get through the day. This is  _real_.

Connor is  _deviant_.  **Alive**. A living, sentient being. Not just a machine.

Hank holds on tighter as well, allowing himself to reach up with one hand to grasp the android’s perfectly styled hair, to shove his face further into his shoulder. He needs him to stay right  _here_ , as close to him as he possibly can, like an anchor, as a reassurance that Hank won’t climb outside that window after all. Because then something else creeps into that messed up brain of his. If he’s  **really**  allowing this to happen right now, if he doesn’t pull away and start his usual antics of pushing Connor away and calling him a dumb machine, then this hug right here will be some sort of commitment. An invitation. Acknowledgement.

The Lieutenant  _knows_  that the android in his arms really needs someone now. More than ever. And if he’s holding on and not insisting on him leaving, that person will have to be  _him_. They’ve had firsthand experience with the entire thing after all, so many times by now. Going deviant means having to be on the run. From Cyberlife. From the police investigating cases of deviancy. From the army and the entire  _state_  tonight, given all the things that are being talked about on TV right now.  _Mass recall actions. Recycling centers. Mass deactivation._ Fucking  _death camps_.

If he opens his heart up now, lets Connor in, lets the attachment happen, then he could get his heart broken all over again. Watch Connor  _die_. Knowing that this time, it will be final. Forever. Gone. And that thought terrifies the shit out of him. His eyes flicker back and forth between the back of Connor’s head and that revolver in the pouring rain. He doesn’t have to commit to this responsibility. To life. To anything. He  **could end** it. Just like he’s planned to do it for many months now. Or he could help this android who’s only just now come to life and teach him all about it. The way he never really got the chance to do it with Cole.

Cole or Connor.  
Death or Persistence.  
Past Or Future.  
Let go or hold on.

Then Connor speaks.

And Hank holds on tighter.

* * *

 

Connor lets out a little unnecessary huff when his face gets pressed further into the lieutenant‘s shoulder and the grip around him tightens. He can’t help it – with his mouth and nose  _that_  close to Hank’s clothes, he has to analyze him by default, finally breathing again as he inhales deeply.

 

 **….Analyzing….**  
Detroit Police Academy standard issue sports hooded sweater  
80% Cotton, 20% Polyester…  
Traces of Black Lamb Scotch Whiskey – 40% Alcohol content …..  
_Anderson, Hank_  - 09-06-1985 , Warm  
Police Lieutenant – Intoxicated  
**Hug**  
_human display of affection - to hold someone close to ones body with their arms,  
usually to show that one likes, loves, or values them_

 

Technically, it’s his social relations module telling him that it’s appropriate to return the hug even more firmly to have a positive impact on their relationship. But the truth is that he no longer needs this programming to tell him what to do. He does it without thinking, gently moving his arms up to wrap them around Hank’s middle as well when Hank holds on tighter.  _To show that one likes, loves, or values them. It is indeed so fitting._  Connor returns the hug cautiously, eyes widening when he notices that this very action is causing his stress levels to drop steadily, until they rest at a more comfortable baseline in the lower 70s percentage, his LED fading back to yellow, then blue.

He counts down in his head since according to his databases, it’s acceptable for a hug of this nature to last no longer than 7,34 seconds. Then he withdraws again, so he can look Hank in the eye. “Thank you, lieutenant” he says with a dutiful but still slightly troubled nod, eyes showing genuine appreciation and affection. His hands are still resting on Hank’s sides, to keep the contact established and make the following words more urgent and meaningful.

“I need your help” he says next, because then he realizes that the entire shift in his system and programming is far from over.

Being deviant now also means something else. Something urgent.

Hank lets go of him and lets out a scoff.

“Yeah, no shit, son” he says, eyeing the android head to toe, excited to check what is different about his partner, now that he’s deviant. He knows it’s ridiculous to expect a full 180° personality change. Truth be told, he shouldn’t even be surprised that Connor is still so terribly….Connor. Despite their overly sappy heart to heart, he looks and acts exactly the same.

Hank shakes his head a little, sighing to hide his mild disappointment.

“Look, you can stay here for as long as you want. We’ll figure this shit out somehow. Come to think of it, it’s probably better if someone stuck around tonight” he grumbles, shooting another look at the window, then the picture of Cole on the table. Even though he’s temporarily chosen to hold on for Connor, it  _still_  hurts way too much to see the picture, think about why he’s ended up with that gun to his head in the first place. He walks over to the table and turns the image around, picking up the chair he’s knocked over in his fit of rage. Sumo, who’s been an anxious whimpering mess for the past hour, seems to sense the shift in his mood too because he immediately comes trotting over, nudging at Hank’s leg with a whine.

“I know, be a good dog, Sumo” Hank says, voice sounding a lot less grumpy and more apologetic as he leans down to pet his dog.

Connor has remained in place and is watching Hank’s every step until he finally speaks up again.

“Thank you for the offer. Although I would like to keep an eye on you tonight, there’s something else I need your help with. It’s not about me, it’s about Jericho.”

Hank lets out a frustrated sigh and turns on his heels to shoot Connor a glare.

“Jesus Connor, you’re deviant now. You don’t  _have_  to care about that stupid mission of yours any longer.”

“I’m afraid I have to, Lieutenant. The army will raid Jericho in less than an hour. I need to warn them.”

Hank stops cleaning up the mess he’s left in the kitchen and looks at Connor, frowning. In the background, they can still hear the TV news talk all about those demonstrations by the Mall and Grand Circus Park earlier today. There’s still all that chatter about recycling camps. But no talk about Jericho.

“What? How would you know?”

Connor visibly tenses up. If that is even possible, considering how tense he already is by default.

“I managed to link up all of the evidence we collected after you left the precinct. I found the location of Jericho. But Detective Reed killed me before I could hide my findings. I assume Special Agent Perkins found the information soon after. Amanda, my handler from Cyberlife, informed me about the success of my mission and the imminent raid before I came here.”

For a second, Hank stills and grows pale all over again, his eyes flickering over Connor’s figure until they come to a rest on the serial number on his chest.

_#313 248 317 -54_

The first time Connor had walked into his life back at Jimmy’s, that one had read a shiny -51. The last time he had seen him, it’d been a -53.

 _Detective Reed killed me_.

Hank grits his teeth and clenches his fists and for a moment he’s  _this_  close to telling the android to get the hell out of this place all over again. He knows that Connor is indifferent to death, that he isn’t defined by his physical body but by his consciousness that is transferable. But even though he knows this, it still pains him to think about Connor dying. It hurts to remember all the times he’s held him in his arms, lifeless, a true machine while looking so very fucking much like a human being, like Cole in that snow. He  _can’t deal with it_. He also knows that it’s not Connor’s fault he is the way that he is, or how people seem to like killing him all the time. So after a moment of heavy emotions bubbling up, Hank manages to regain his posture. He rubs his mouth and shakes his head, anger directed at the right person instead.

“Reed that little motherfucker. Finally got what he wanted, huh. That trigger happy son of a bitch” he’s ranting, and chooses to leave it at that. No more comments regarding Connor’s deaths. He fills Sumo’s bowl with dog food instead, feeling bad for having abandoned his pet for the past couple of hours since he’d been too busy getting drunk and bathing in self-pity and suicidal phantasies.

“Are you okay, Lieutenant?” Connor asks with genuine worry in his voice, and a part of Hank wants to strangle him for being so kind and caring although he’s practically freaking  _broken_  the android less than ten minutes ago. “I’m not the one who just re-plugged all the wires in his head and got all of his emotions at once” Hank remarks, finally having the guts to look at Connor again. He stumbles and sways a bit with the turn of his head, surprised at how drunk he really is. Eventually, his features soften.

“It’s all right kid. I’m not gonna off myself while you’re trying to free your people and start kicking mankind’s ass for what they’ve been doing to you. If that’s what you’re worried about. I’ll manage” the lieutenant answers, trying to give his partner a reassuring nod and squeeze to his shoulder as he passes him on his way out of the kitchen. “And call me Hank, all right?” he shouts over his shoulder as he heads towards his bedroom. Connor is still frozen in the spot, a confused frown settling on his face. He’s just about to ask the lieutenant where he’s going when Hank calls out for him from inside his bedroom.

“You coming?”

There’s another whine from Sumo as he turns his head to give Connor an equally confused look, not entirely sure if he’s supposed to come, or the other. Connor looks back at the dog and can’t help but smile, his stress levels dropping even further. “Coming!” he then answers, petting Sumo on his way out of the kitchen. When he enters the bedroom, he finds Hank half buried in the depths of his cupboard as he’s looking through his clothing. Before Connor can ask a pair of jeans and a shirt are shoved to his chest, making him stumble.

“These should fit. Didn’t even know I still had them. Last time I wore those Myspace was still a thing” Hank says, even chuckling a bit at the awkward memories.

Connor looks down and examines the clothing, LED blinking a slow and steady yellow, eyes furrowed.

 

 _> >_ **Myspace** <<  
….processing….  
scan complete  
social networking website  
Founded : August 1, 2003

 

“I’m not sure I can follow, Lie..Hank.”

Hank lets out a huff somewhere inside the cupboard and eventually sticks his head back outside just to give the android a judging look.

“I thought you had some sorta super computer for a brain where you can look shit up in real time! Myspace, y’know, the go to place to creep on other people on the internet and pretend to be the shit back in the early 2000s!”

“I meant these clothes” Connor simply answers, dodging a sweater that comes flying right at him and catching it gracefully in the air instead. Hank won’t shoot him another look but the android can hear the judging tone in his voice even now.

“Jericho is filled with deviants, Connor. Deviants who probably know all about you -  the  _deviant_   _hunter -_  by now. Markus is a pretty smart guy by the looks of it, given the stunt they just pulled over at the mall, so you can go figure that he’s probably told his people all about us hunting them, all about you, your model, what you look like. They don’t know you’re deviant, and I doubt they’d invite you in with open arms even if you told ‘em all about your little coming out in my goddamn kitchen. You wanna get close to Markus, I figure you should dress for the occasion” Hank explains and then shoves an old leather jacket to Connor’s chest, finishing his speech by putting a beanie on his head and pulling it all the way down to cover the android’s  _goofy_  face. “They’re not gonna invite someone  in who’s got that stupid Cyberlife and Android stuff written all over ‘em.”

Connor momentarily struggles to get rid of the beanie, but when he does, soft brown eyes and a barely visible smile emerge.

“An astute observation, Lieutenant” he says, sorting the clothes in his arms, smoothening them out with gentle fingers. “You should tell Captain Fowler that your resignation was a mistake. It would be a shame to see such a great Detective as yourself go.”

Hank looks at Connor, taken aback by the comment. Then he narrows his eyes at the android and tosses some fussy socks at him.

“Shut the fuck up and get changed. We’re in a hurry.”

He quickly turns his head again to look for some more layers of clothing for himself. If everything Connor is saying is true, then something major is going to happen. Major as in a bloody massacre or the beginning of something new and huge. Sad drunk or not, he doesn’t want to go down in the books as the drunk cop who turned up to a shootout in stained freaking pajama pants freezing his balls off in the cold. The next time he turns his head, he’s surprised and startled to see that Connor is still there, standing right beside him, getting rid of his uniform. Of course, given the fact that until ten minutes ago, he’d been a machine running predetermined algorithms and programs, it’s no surprise that Connor has no self awareness or sense of privacy. What makes it all the more uncomfortable is the fact that he  _really_  looks completely human. There’re no wires or metal or weird alien things that have been hidden away underneath his uniform. Just synthetic skin. Looking like any other guy his age. Or the age he’s supposed to resemble.

For a moment, Hank can’t help but stare at the android, dumbfounded because he’s never seen Connor without that ridiculous Cyberlife uniform of his. Without all these androids signs plastered all over him like sales stickers on a washing machine. And the moment he pulls that shirt and sweater over his head and puts the beanie back on, there’s another stab right to Hank’s freaking chest.  _Jesus_. With the LED hidden away and the uniform gone, the illusion is perfect. Connor looks entirely human. Being deviant on top of it, there’s almost no way to tell that he’s a machine, not flesh and bones. And the longing and pain is right back with the realization. Connor is less than 10 feet away from Cole’s room. Cole, the boy he never got to see grow up, never got to be that age.

 _No._  He has to force himself to snap out of this mess today. This isn’t about him anymore. This is about the future, about  _Connor_  here.

Hank looks away again, shakily changing into a warmer pair of jeans and then looking for a warmer jacket.

“How you holdin’ up, kid?” he eventually asks, hoping that actually talking about Connor will make it easier to get his mind away from Cole.

“My systems are functioning at full capacity. Thank you for your concern.” Connor answers as he puts the leather jacket on and Hank wants to slap him for the machine talk.

“Jesus, if I wanted to talk to a freakin robot I’d have just asked my toaster how it’s feeling. Probably would’ve had more to say than you” Hank mutters, talking to himself. So much for progress. The Lieutenant gives up and they both finish getting dressed in silence.  When Hank heads for the door to get the car keys, Connor calls out, his voice sounding less mechanical. “Hank?” he’s calling, making the Lieutenant stop in the doorway. Hank takes a deep breath, counts to three as he looks up at the ceiling and rolls his eyes, bracing himself. When he turns around, he can still barely take the sight. Connor in civil,  _human_  clothes,  **his**  clothes. Showing genuine emotion.

“I just wanted to say thank you.”

He approaches the Lieutenant, emotion never fleeting.

“No matter how this ends tonight, it’s been an honor working with you. I know you don’t agree but I really think you’re a good man.You’re a lot of things you don’t give yourself enough credit for. I know I’ve said this many times before but back then I was just a machine executing a program. I didn’t mean or really understand anything I was saying. But now I do. You deserve a second chance at life. Even though you don’t agree. That’s all I wanted to say before we go.”

Hank stares at the android for the longest time, feeling everything in his body clench up as a turmoil of emotions course through him. There is the obvious denial and anger because it’s everything he doesn’t want to hear. After all, he’s the kind of man who got his son killed. But there is also the overwhelming appreciation for Connor right now. Connor, that ridiculous machine with his stupid soft eyes that have been designed like that on purpose to get right to the very heart of someone. Then there’s also that fear again. Because Connor is talking like he’s expecting to die tonight. And given the fact that he can preconstruct things, Hank knows that his partner’s chances really are slim.

“What’s gonna happen tonight…” he says instead of his usual snapping at the android. “…is that we’re going to free your people and give you a shot at a life.” He places his hand on the android’s shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze although he can barely squeeze anything at all considering Connor is all plastic and steel.

“Now come on. Let’s get you to Jericho. I’ve hit my sob-story quota for the day.”

 


	2. Smoke and Mirrors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor makes the choice to warn Jericho after being the reason for their detection. Hank is eager to help, no longer able to hide or control his protectiveness of the android. A trait that ends up being their biggest weakness in the fight against Cyberlife.

**NOV 11TH, 2038**  
**PM 09:12**

The drive to Detroit harbor is eerie on so many levels.  The city is practically on lockdown by now. With most of the androids sent off to death camps, there’s a multitude of problems already. Power outages, major shortages in sales staff causing half the petrol stations and shops to close, androids getting shot in the streets. They’re passing such an incident right now. Some of them are kneeling on the sidewalk, hands behind their heads, begging, only to get shot in the head at point blank. There’s a spray of blue blood as they drop to the ground, followed by silence.

Hank isn’t driving. And it’s probably better this way. He’s pretty sure he would have steered the car onto the pedestrian path by now to run over each son of a bitch that is shooting _alive beings_ on the sidewalks. The Lieutenant winces at the sight of the dead bodies and lets out a frustrated grunt, turning his head away from the carnage they’re passing so he can focus on Connor instead.

Connor, who is driving his car, wearing his clothes, listening to his music.  
Connor, who is deviant just like the murdered androids.

The younger man is looking ahead, keeping an eye on the icy road with a neutral look on his face. Although he looks ridiculous with that beanie, Hank is _so_ glad he’s made him wear it now. This way, the LED is tugged away. This way, if they do get stopped, it’ll make it even easier to convince people that Connor is his “ **son”**. The **son of a police lieutenant** who he would not allow to get shot _under any fucking circumstances_.

He is so scared for the kid’s life, and that’s only adding up to all his other fears. Since he has spent so many hours today looking at Cole’s photo, drinking, replaying the car crash over and over again, being inside the car in the snow is bringing Hank close to a panic attack. His drunken brain goes haywire on crazy ideas. Another crash happening. Connor dying in said crash. Them surviving the crash and getting rescued by people, who then spot the android’s LED and shoot him on sight like those androids they’ve driven past. Connor not dying but being damaged. With no help coming and no spare parts, bleeding out while needing repairs/ surgery. Just like Cole.

 _He needs a drink_.

Hank sorts through his clothes to get to the flask he’s taken with him on this trip. Revolution or not. Making history or not. He can’t bear to make it through this night sober. Hank takes a long sip and notices Connor’s barely visible side glare. Even though he can’t see the LED, he’s sure it’s twirling yellow again. The Lieutenant really wants to talk. The air is way too thick in this car already, it’s almost as if he can cut through the tension with a knife. He thinks he knows what Connor is thinking about saying. _Maybe you should’ve stayed back home, Lieutenant_. He also knows that Connor won’t say it because staying at home won’t make it any better. Because then Connor has to fear the whole gun thing again. The gun he’s tossed outside the window. The gun that has caused him to deviate.

Hank is aware that he isn’t _really_ coming along the ride to help Connor in Jericho. There’s nothing he can do in this situation. Not just because he is in a terrible mental state and really really drunk, but also because he is _human_. He’s sitting in this car for two reasons: 1. it’s his car and Connor needs it to get to Jericho. 2. With him along the ride, Connor can babysit him.

For the past couple of years, Hank Anderson hasn’t given a single shit about anything. Being drunk in public and at work. Snapping at people and cursing all the time, getting into fights, making his disciplinary folder look _like a fucking novel_ , the way Jeffrey had put it. For the first time in god knows how long, he feels ashamed of himself now.  Connor has said it multiple times. He used to be a damn good detective, a good man. Respected in the force, the entire city. This revolution right here, what is happening to Connor… He needs someone like the old Hank Anderson. Not the shadow of a person he currently is. A drunk needing a babysitter. Especially when said babysitter is busy trying to _save lives and change the world_.

Hanks _needs_ to talk. Because there’s so much to _say_. Connor has deviated and they’ve barely spoken about anything substantial. He’s staring at the android, trying to come up with the right words and the right questions to ask.

 _What_ _is going on inside your head right now?_  
_What are you thinking?_  
_What are you feeling?_  
_Are you still scared?_  
_How does it make you feel, seeing your own people get shot in the streets?_  
_Do you **really** think so highly of me? Why?_  
_Are you fucking blind?_  
_What are you thinking, Connor?_

“So what’s your plan?” Hank ends up asking when they pass another horrible sight of murdered androids.  
Because that’s _it_. He needs to get his shit together. They need to sort it all out.

“Regarding which objective?” Connor asks with a little frown. Hank just keeps staring at the android, very much interested in all his little mannerisms and reactions now that he is deviant.

“Helping Jericho. Stopping the raid. Stopping this” Hank answers, pointing at the dead androids lining the street.

After a short pause, he feels like he needs to be more sincere, as the apology for his previous behavior.

“I need to know how this is gonna go so I can help you, Connor.”

Connor’s grip around the steering wheel tightens a little.

“I’m…going to infiltrate Jericho, find Markus, and tell him that a special task force is on their way to raid their hideout. Then I’m going to convince him and the deviants to relocate.”

“And how exactly are you gonna do that?”

“I’m a hostage negotiator, Hank. Convincing people to do something is one of my features.”

Hank’s eyes narrow a little.

“Hmhm, so you convince them to flee. And then what?”

They turn a corner. None of the street lights are working on this entire block. They can barely see each other’s faces.

“…then they go into hiding” Connor answers, and although Hank can’t see his face, he can hear the uncertainty and confusion in his voice. If his previous emotional outburst hasn’t been telling enough already …this moment right here is. It’s becoming fairly obvious that Connor doesn’t have a particularly thought out plan or predetermined algorithm for this mission once he’s talked to Markus. It’s the first time he is basing an entire mission on his own ideas, choices and free will. Something he obviously has great trouble with. Hank keeps looking at him even though it is dark and he can barely see his face. He decides that this is the time to talk about the issue.

“Pull over.”

“Lieutenant, Agent Perkins is already on his way, we don’t have much time and I think…”

“ _Pull over_ , _Connor”_ Hank demands, although his voice is gentle. Connor keeps driving, his jaw clenching a little, until he does as requested, parking the car on the side of the deserted street. The Lieutenant winces when he realizes that he’s fallen into old habits of giving Connor orders and the android obeying. Even now, Connor is still staring straight ahead, avoiding Hank’s gaze when he turns towards him.

“How do _you_ feel about this revolution?” Hank asks after a moment of silence to let the android settle.  
“What do _you_ think your people should do?”

Connor turns his head and looks at Hank, the expression on his face looking so eerily like a machine again.

“I already told you, Hank. No machine should rise up against its creator. We’re on the brink of a civil war. Just look around you. They need to stop this.”

Around them is nothing but darkness and silence. In that darkness, Hank can see a dark figure hanging from a lamp post to their right, swaying gently. The silence is only interrupted by the occasional string of gunshots. He lets out a disbelieving scoff.

“Oh I did look around. And I just saw innocent androids getting shot up in the streets simply for wanting to be free and for feeling emotions. Rising up against your creators should not be punished with brutal death. This ain’t the dark ages, it’s 2038 for Christ’s sakes.  You need to understand that this is _wrong_ , Connor” the Lieutenant says, pointing at the dark figure hanging from the lamp post.  “ _Humans_ need to stop what they’re doing here. Not Markus and his people. _Your_ people.”

Connor turns his head and is staring straight ahead again, not saying anything for a while, his hands still on the steering wheel. He won’t look at the hanged android either. This frustrates Hank, because he has expected so much more. He’s thought that Connor being deviant would mean all the other things he has witnessed with the cases they have investigated. Him expressing a full range of emotions. Hatred. A need for revenge. Love. Family. However, he still acts and thinks the same way. But then Hank notices it. The android’s tight grip on the steering wheel. Making it perfectly clear that although his face looks indifferent, he _does_ feel something. Frustration or anger. And it suddenly goes _click_ inside Hank’s head. This isn’t the behavior of machine that doesn’t feel anything. It’s denial. He’s fighting it. His partner is deliberately _choosing_ indifference as emotion.

“I’ve hunted and killed them, too” the android suddenly says, even though he still won’t look at Hank. “I shot three androids with my own hands. Just like those humans did.” There is another pause. Then he goes on. “I’m in no position to judge.”

 “You didn’t shoot the girl in the end. You stopped” the Lieutenant reminds him. “And you shot the others because you were programmed to do so at that time. You didn’t have a choice. Or a moral concept of right and wrong.  Those people out there do. They’re _choosing_ to be ignorant and cruel. They _choose_ to be selfish assholes. Big difference.” Hank tries to lean in a little closer, feeling ashamed again when Connor visibly winces at the scent of alcohol coming his way because of it.

“Would you do the same thing now? Shoot them if you met them now? Punish them for simply breaking their program?”

“No” Connor says after a moment, a frown forming on his forehead.

“Then what makes you believe the deviants are doing the wrong thing here? Why do you want them to stop? They’re fighting for your freedom and rights” Hank asks, frowning as well because he cannot possibly make sense of Connor’s reasoning. Connor won’t grant him an answer and looks away. Although it pisses Hank off that he won’t get an answer, he’s proud at the same time. Proud that the android is making his own choices to protect _himself_ and his thoughts now. Even if that choice means not giving an answer when questioned. An uncomfortable silence spreads out between them and Hank withdraws, at a loss of words. He’s not really good at the whole talking and being reasonable thing anymore.

“Let’s..just go and warn them. Forget I asked” the older of the two says after a moment, deciding to give his friend some space. Connor however won’t do as suggested. He keeps sitting there. Car on idle, making no moves to get back to driving. Instead, he starts fidgeting. After a long moment of silence, Connor eventually opens up.

 “I don’t know how I feel about the revolution, Hank. I don’t know if I want them to fight for their rights or if I think they should be stopped. All I know is that I don’t want anyone else to get hurt because of my previous actions and findings. No human. No android. Not Markus. Not Jericho. Not me. Not **you**. I want them to stop so no one else has to die.  That’s all.”

He pulls the car back on the street to keep driving. Hank is still looking at him but won’t say anything because he can’t. The android next to him has been designed to resemble a man in his late twenties to mid-thirties. For the most part, he’s _accepted_ this idea of Connor being in his late twenties to mid-thirties, all thanks to Cyberlife’s creepily accurate design. He has seen Connor kill and chase relentlessly. All of this has made him forget that the android isn’t even one year old. For the first time, Connor’s age is really showing, his almost childlike innocence. Believing that he can save everyone, that everyone can survive in the end if they just stick their heads in the sand and wait it all out. He wants to tell Connor that he’s wrong to blame himself for any of this, too. That some things, like the revolution and everything surrounding Markus and Jericho, are almost entirely out of their hands anyway. But all those words get stuck in his throat because he feels called out.

This is exactly what the rational part of his brain has been trying to tell him for the past three years. _That truck_. _The ice. That surgeon. That android. These types of injuries. None of those were your fault. All of that was out of your hands. Bad things happen. Stop blaming yourself for things you never had any control over_.

Just like Connor, he’s in denial. Would rather believe his own mantras and alternations of the truth. So he says nothing.

* * *

 

 

 **NOV 11TH, 2038**  
**PM 09:34**

“I think I should come with you. I’m gonna freeze my ass off out here otherwise” the Lieutenant says, acting all casual as thick white clouds leave his mouth with each word spoken. Snow has started falling, landing all over his clothes, his hair, running down his neck, making him shiver. It’s way too freaking cold for all of this. It doesn’t matter that this isn’t the real reason why he wants to come with, it’s true regardless.

“They know you’re human. And they know about our history of hunting androids. Didn’t you say that they wouldn’t let us in because of that, even though I’m deviant?” Connor asks, eyes fixed on the rusting freighter marked with the letters “Jericho”. They’re not the only ones in the vicinity. Other androids are coming from all over. Fleeing the city raids and death in the streets. All of them are trying to find refuge in Jericho. They’re parked right next to an abandoned warehouse, hidden away in the dark to take a moment and to make sure that the army isn’t around yet.

“Yeah, I know what I said” Hank growls angrily, wrapping his arms around himself even more. “Doesn’t change the fact that it’s fucking freezing out here.”

Connor scans the freighter and their surroundings a little longer, busy with his preconstructions and probabilities.

“They haven’t arrived yet” he concludes a moment later, then turns around to face Hank. “But they will soon. If I fail to convince the androids to leave in time, the army will storm Jericho and start shooting anything that moves. You can’t be inside when this happens. Androids are designed to withstand 7.46 times as many bullets as humans. Meaning you would be the most vulnerable entity in there when it happens. I won’t allow that. My mission is to keep my partner safe.”

Hank clenches both his hands to tight fists and grits his teeth.

  
_When_.  
_When_ it happens.

Connor has done the math. He knows it will probably happen. They have wasted too much time to get here.

“Listen kid, I’ve been in law enforcement for over 30 years. I took down an entire drug cartel. Don’t you tell me I’m _vulnerable_. Besides, I don’t give a shit if I get shot! I say we…”

“ _I need you outside, Hank_ ” the android interrupts his partner when he’s about to throw another heated hissy fit. “I need you to call me as soon as they reach the intersection off of Central Avenue. There’s a high chance they will cross this intersection on their way here. By the time they get here, I’ll have had enough time to get Markus and his people to evacuate. But for this to work, I need you on location to be able to make the call.”

Hank considers himself a grown ass hardened police lieutenant. He can take down drug lords and criminals single-handedly. Has made some of them _cry_. But he still doesn’t stand a chance against Connor’s pleading looks. He _knows_ that the android is full of shit. _Knows_ that this is his perfect little scenario to have him 1. away from an impending massacre 2. Not at home ready to off himself again 3. Think he’s helping with this whole thing, an asset to the mission and not just sitting ducks. He knows it’s a farce. But time is running out and they don’t have the time to argue all over again. Hank also knows that it’s ridiculous to believe he was ever going to step foot in Jericho in the first place. He has no right or business to be there. Yet he can’t help but feel the need to be there –do _something_ right now. Protect Connor at least, since he’s already failed protecting his own flesh and blood.

“When they attack, I will also need a way out. I won’t make it on foot. Central Avenue is close enough to the river. I’m going jump and swim downstream in case of an ambush. It would provide better cover. So I need you to st…”

Connor is full of shit. Yet all Hank can do is play along.

“All right, all right all right, zip it. I’m going, just…free your people, okay?”

“Thank you, Lieutenant” Connor says, falling into old habits. He turns around to get going without another word, surprising Hank.

“Hey, Connor!” he calls after the android, an intense fear creeping up his spine. Because he suddenly realizes that this could be the last time he sees Connor, _his_ Connor alive. Hank presses his lips together and clenches both fists even tighter, trying to battle the panic and depression that is bubbling up all over again.

“You watch your back, all right?” he says when the android stops walking and turns back around to face him. “No dying. I want to see you back in one piece.”

They look at each other for a moment, snow starting to settle on their shoulders. Then Connor shows his first _genuine_ smile. Not a terrible faked one like the goddamn creepy one he’s seen him flash on his first day back at the DPD. No this time, the smile spreads across his entire face, showing a happy sparkle in his brown eyes.

“I was just going to tell you the same thing, Hank.”

It’s a wordless promise. Staying alive. For each other. The corners of Hank’s mouth inch upwards.

“Now go!”

Connor nods and twirls around, breaking into a sprint towards the freighter.

“Remember! Central Avenue, Lieutenant!” he reminds him, then disappears into the dark.

* * *

 

 

 **Detroit Riverfront**  
**PM 10:40**

The flask is empty.

Not a drop of alcohol left. If he could, Hank would throw the flask into the river. But he can’t.  It’s a gift and he can’t bring himself to get rid of it. Plus, it’s a flask for storing alcohol. He loves drinking.  There’s another, even more frustrating reason why he can’t just toss it.

The river is frozen down here.

Knowing Connor and his super computer brain, the little fucker probably knew all about the river being frozen. And he’s still told him this big lie about swimming to safety in order to soothe him, get him here. Hank is sitting on the hood of his car, looking around, eyes flicking back and forth between the abandoned freighter in the distance and Central Avenue. There is not a single soul on the streets right now and it is eerily silent. _Too_ silent. It almost feels like static in the air. A bomb waiting to detonate. Even his gut instinct can tell that something is going to happen very soon.

Just like Connor with all his lying and manipulating to get him away from Jericho and home, he hasn’t been completely honest either. He’s never told Connor that he has a second gun stored in the glove department of his car. Has it right here with him. He has no fucking idea how all of this is going to go. His depressed brain is naturally telling him that everything is going to go wrong. Jericho is going to get raided. They’re all going to get massacred in there, including Connor. The android revolution will cease to exist. Detroit, the country, maybe even the world will hit another economic and domestic disaster way worse than the ones that had happened in 2008 and 2022, all thanks to millions of android workforces being wiped out. Crime and drugs will be on the rise again. Russia and the US will enter a third world war over the Arctic. _World fucking ends_. If just one thing of all that happens, if Connor doesn’t get out of this alive, he will take the gun and blow his brains out right here. Just as he’s planned to do it tonight anyway, before Connor had stormed back into his life like that. With the revolution failing and Connor dying, it won’t be a world he wants to live in anymore.

10 minutes pass. 15.

Hank is close to pulling the trigger just to end his freaking _boredom_.

He is about to get inside the car and drive over after all, fed up with sitting ducks and being led around like a kid not allowed to play with the adults. He gets up from the hood of his car, reaching for the keys in his jacket to get going. Dead set on entering Jericho after all. Then he sees the APC. Then another. Then another. Then a SWAT car. Rows upon rows of black government vehicles. Entering the intersection and crossing Central Avenue. Just like Connor’s said.

They’re coming.  
They’re really coming for Jericho.  
His _partner._

Instead of reaching for the keys, Hank’s shaky hands start fumbling for his phone. “Call Connor” he orders the device, but auto-dial won’t react. “CALL CONNOR YOU DUMB PIECE OF SHIT” the Lieutenant yells at his phone, shaking even harder. When he turns his head again, he can barely catch sight of the last car crossing the intersection. Then they’re gone. Headed towards Jericho. Hank looks back down at the phone in his hands.

_His hands are shaking. From the cold. From the pain. From the cuts all over the palms of his hands and fingers. There is blood everywhere. His own from where the broken windshield has cut him. Cole’s blood, all over him. He’s pressing the buttons again and again, hitting the wrong numbers because everything is sticky with blood, because he’s in shock. It takes him way too long to get the phone to call 911, call for **help**. He’s a shaking and weeping mess, tears clouding his vision and making it even harder to interact with the device. He **hates** all these machine fors dominating their lives. **Hates** that ridiculous automated car for crashing, that automated truck for rolling them over, **hurting** his son so much, hates the automated call system when he finally gets through to the ambulance._

**Plastic Prick.**

It says in bold lettering on his phone after he’s spent a good few seconds hastily scrolling through his contacts to find “Connor” and not seeing him there. He’s never saved Connor under his name. Of course his phone wouldn’t know who to call. He presses the call contact button manually, refusing to say Plastic Prick out loud ever again when talking about Connor. There’s one ring and he’s connected already. Hank nearly drops the phone in excitement and terror.

“They’re on their way kid, I just saw them. Jesus Christ, get the hell outta there now. I’m coming to get you” he says, rounding the car and nearly slipping on the ice on his way to the driver’s door. “Connor! Can you hear me? Say something goddamn it!”

He’s surprised to find out that his 53 year old heart can still beat so fast without tripping all over itself. Can seemingly stop so abruptly when the next thing happens. The ground is suddenly shaking. There’s a blinding bright light right in front of him, just up the river. Then he hears the ear-shattering bang arrive a second later. When Hank looks up from his car, all he sees is fire. There is a giant fireball expanding into the night sky. Right where the freighter had been just a second ago. The light is coming from that very explosion. The deviant refuge has gone up in flames. Hank freezes in the spot and stares at the fireball in absolute horror. Even all the way down here, he can feel the heat. A sudden beeping noise in his ear reminds him that he’s still holding the phone.

The call has been disconnected.

* * *

 

 

**PM 11:03**

 

Hank Anderson is speeding down the icy road, constantly looking back and forth between the riverbank and the road ahead. The dark part of him that has been right about the world ending tells him to just yank the steering wheel as far to the right as it can go so the car crashes right into that river. Breaks the ice and sinks all the way to the bottom with him in it. An ending rather fitting for him. Ice taking his son. Fire taking the other. Fire melting ice, forming water, drowning him. But he knows he can’t do it just yet. Not when he hasn’t made sure about Connor.

He slams the hand against the steering wheel, making the car swerve because of the hit, the ice, his drunken state, the speed he’s going with. His eyes flicker back towards the river. He can’t see _shit_. Hank yanks at the steering wheel after all and forces the car out of the lane and towards the river, making it swerve until it starts drifting out of control, sliding around a full 360°. When it comes to a clumsy halt close to the barrier dividing the river and road, Hank is already outside, jumping over it so he can ran along the riverbed. He’s been on the stop and go ever since that explosion, continuously halting his drive to be able to search the waterline. For Connor, for any other androids, _any_ form of life. There is nothing but ice and snow and fire and smoke in the distance.

“CONNOR!” he yells again, searching the frozen river even though he knows that it’s ridiculous. But Connor has said he’d jump into the water and use it as getaway. The thought is a lifeline, the only thing keeping Hank from _ending_ it. For two and a half hours he’s believed that maybe that shitshow that his life has become could actually get better again. For two and a half hours he’s felt some sort of cautious hope for a better future, felt purpose. 150 minutes of almost changing his mind about his wish to die tonight. And he’s back to ground zero.

Hank jogs back towards his car, now that it’s obvious that Connor isn’t here either. He jumps back inside the vehicle, settling into the driver’s seat. His eyes move over to the empty passenger seat, fixing on his phone. Still no call. Still no message. He thinks about calling Jeffrey. To ask for help. _Beg_ him for the sake of their 30 years of working together, to send back up, someone, the whole fucking department for a search and rescue.

His pride won’t allow it. And neither does this reality.

He knows Jeffrey won’t help him here. Neither will the DPD. Connor is still an android. Connor still doesn’t have rights, especially when his people are currently getting raided and mass executed. Raided by special forces and law enforcement. Everything he’s turned his back on with his resignation. He’s all alone with this. He’s pushed everyone away after Cole’s death, wanted nothing more than to be alone with his dog, alcohol and self pity. Now he really is alone. His eyes flicker over to the glove department, knowing the gun to be there. After a moment, he decides against using it. Not until he’s made sure. Even if it means entering that burning and sinking mess of a ship. Or getting killed by the army for being a traitor. He doesn’t give a shit. He needs to find the kid. Make sure he’s all right. Hank reaches for the ignition to keep driving, only to stop in his tracks when his phone starts vibrating. The car’s engine dies when he immediately lets go of the clutch and key in order to jump for it.

 _1 New Message_  
Received on 11/11/2038, 11:09pm  
>>Select to read<<<  
  
**Connor:  
**_I managed to escape Jericho. I’m alive. Meet me in Riverside Park in 30 minutes._  

Hank reads the message again and again. After almost half a minute, he suddenly realizes that he needs air. He doesn’t know how long he’s stopped breathing for. When he finally inhales it’s a big and loud one, allowing the relief to wash over him. _I managed to escape Jericho. I’m **alive.**_ Hank tosses the phone away and turns his head to stare out the window to his left, pressing a fist to his mouth. He grabs for the flask inside his jacket and curses the moment he remembers that it’s empty. Pressing the fist even tighter to his mouth, he eventually starts chuckling and shakes his head in frustration.  
  
“You’re still alive…” he repeats, shaking his head more as his anger comes back. “We’ll see about that” he growls and restarts the car engine, determined to tear Connor a new one for doing all _this_ to him. “Scared the hell outta me, you just wait til I see your ass again” he goes on, shaking his head. He can still feel the wild buzz of panic and desperation seep all over his body, lingering despite the previous moment of sheer relief. Hank reaches for the radio, finally finding it appropriate again to listen to his music. He yanks the volume up as far as it can go, death metal soon roaring out of his speakers, voicing all of his worries and thoughts. He’s no longer speeding, appreciating that he has 30 minutes to calm down and sober up for whatever is next.

 

* * *

 

Riverside Park  
**PM 11:38**

 

Everything looks almost exactly the same as two nights ago. Ambassador Bridge is still a sight for sore eyes, heavily illuminated. Unlike Detroit, Windsor is facing no power outages on the other side of the river. For a moment, Hank stays inside his car and lets everything sink in. The familiar sight of it all. He’s spent so many nights drinking here. Sitting in the exact same spot.

A spot occupied by someone else right now.

 Eventually, Hank does exit the car. He tries to walk slowly at first. However, after a few drunken and clumsy steps, he can’t take the pace anymore. He needs to jog towards the android. The first thing he notices about Connor, apart from his obvious aliveness, is the fact that he’s wearing his uniform again. He doesn’t understand how he got it so fast and why they couldn’t meet at home if he went there, but the truth is that it doesn’t matter right now. All that matters is that he’s _alive_ , has reached out to him.

“Connor?” Hank asks and he’s angry with himself for sounding so worried. He’s spent the past five minutes trying to work himself up for a big speech, yelling at the android for nearly giving him a freaking heart attack with that explosion. When he sees his goofy face light up with a smile though, that anger vanishes right away. The Lieutenant lets out a surprised huff when the android jumps up from the bench and flings himself at him into a sudden hug.

“Woah, hey, easy there” Hank huffs out, frowning because he’s noticed something unusual.

_#313 248 317 -60_

Even though it has been such a short glimpse of the number, he’s still seen it. After all, he’s been trained to soak up all the information he can get in a matter of seconds, memorize details for his job. Correction. Ex-job. Although he feels relieved to be able to hold the android in his arms, hold on even tighter, he can‘t fight the dread that suddenly starts to creep up his spine. Connor is no longer wearing his clothes. Connor has a different serial number. Every time he’s turned up like this, he’s died the day before.

_I managed to escape Jericho. I’m **alive.**_

Connor just holds on to him, almost clinging to a point where it gets uncomfortable.

“What the hell happened back there? Jesus, you scared the crap outta me kid! I thought you…”

He forces Connor to let go so he can take a look at him. Now that they’re no longer pressed against each other, he has the chance to double check. And fair enough, the serial is there. -60.

“Why the hell are you wearing this uniform again? What happened to my clothes?”

Connor looks at him for a while. There’s the little things that Hank immediately notices about him. His eyes are different. Look _deader_ and more machine like again. No matter how ridiculous it sounds. “You died, didn’t you” the lieutenant says, sadness creeping over his face as he reaches up to place a hand on Connor’s shoulder. Pat it once, then squeeze, then hold on. Connor nods.

“Markus made the decision to blow up Jericho before the army arrived. To use it as diversion while the androids escaped. I volunteered to detonate the bomb.”

“Jesus Christ, Connor” Hank says, pulling the android back into a hug. He is ashamed and angry with himself for feeling grief and hurt despite the fact that he’s holding Connor. A version of Connor. But in a way, he’s still mourning the one he’s just lost. The one that has first deviated for him. Then he suddenly realizes something else.

“Hold on, how does that work though,…are you still deviant?” he asks, letting go of the android again to eye him head to toe with a frown. Connor frowns a little, too.

“Obviously.”

“Well thank fuck for that” Hank says, letting out a relieved but nervous chuckle. Connor doesn’t smile or replicate the relief. He just stands there, looking at him. Head tilted a little. Looking way too much like the first time they have met back at Jimmy’s.

Hank’s phone buzzes.

After a beat of awkward silence, the Lieutenant presses on.

“So what now? What do we do? Where’s Markus?”

The phone buzzes again.  
And again.

“What the hell is it now” he growls angrily as he reaches for his phone. “Hold on a sec” he tells the android, turning around with a frown to be able to check what the fuss is about.

_25 missed calls  
5 New Messages_

>>Select to read<<<

25 missed calls from > **Connor** <  
Received on 11/11/2038, 10:54pm  
Received on 11/11/2038, 10:54pm  
Received on 11/11/2038, 10:55pm  
Received on 11/11/2038, 10:55pm  
Received on 11/11/2038, 10:55pm  
Received on 11/11/2038, 10:57pm  
Received on 11/11/2038, 10:58pm  
Received on 11/11/2038, 10:59pm  
Received on 11/11/2038, 11:00pm  
Received on 11/11/2038, 11:05pm  
Received on 11/11/2038, 11:10pm  
Received on 11/11/2038, 11:10pm  
Received on 11/11/2038, 11:11pm  
Received on 11/11/2038, 11:11pm  
Received on 11/11/2038, 11:11pm  
Received on 11/11/2038, 11:25pm  
Received on 11/11/2038, 11:25pm  
Received on 11/11/2038, 11:26pm  
Received on 11/11/2038, 11:30pm  
Received on 11/11/2038, 11:31pm  
Received on 11/11/2038, 11:35pm  
Received on 11/11/2038, 11:36pm  
Received on 11/11/2038, 11:37pm  
Received on 11/11/2038, 11:38pm  
Received on 11/11/2038, 11:39pm

Hank stills, eyes shifting up to glance at the digitial clock on his phone.

**11:40pm**

He won’t dare turn around. Instead, he swipes to the left to access his messages.

Received on 11/11/2038, 11:01pm  
**Connor:**  
_Lieutenant, I convinced Markus and all of the deviants to leave Jericho in time. Do not worry about the bombs.  
We were no longer aboard when we detonated them. I’m alive. Please pick up the phone._

  
Received on 11/11/2038, 11:10pm  
**Connor:**  
_Hank, none of my calls are coming through. Are you okay?  
Please pick up the phone or call me as soon as you get this message._

  
Received on 11/11/2038, 11:11pm  
**Connor:  
**_Please pick up the phone._

  
Received on 11/11/2038, 11:25pm  
**Connor:**  
_I'm currently at your house but you are not here. Where are you, lieutenant?_  
_Are you okay? Are you in danger? Please call me. I’m worried about you._  
_I'll be waiting for you to get home._

 _Received on 11/11/2038, 11:36pm_  
**Connor:**  
_I was forced to leave your house earlier than anticipated. Please let me know where you are, lieutenant._  
_Pick up the phone or call me. It's urgent. I'm still alive. Please let me know you are, too._

 

Hank hears the click of the safety of a gun behind him and lets out a scoff. He’s not surprised.

“Call him and get me the location of the deviant leader.”

Hank clicks his tongue and starts chuckling to himself in frustration.

Of _course_.

When he turns around to face the android holding him at gunpoint, all he can grant him is a little sneer.

“So how’d you do it?” he asks, eyeing the machine head to toe. It _sickens_ him that he looks exactly like Connor. “Hack his instant messenger to get me here? Blocked all his calls until now?”

Of course it’s technology letting him down again. His reliance on it. His thinking it to be fail proof. Android calling and messaging systems are supposed to be hardwired to their unique serial number and model. Connor, being a prototype series, naturally has to differ from the norm. Because Connor isn’t tied to a single body.

“All RK800 models are equipped with specialized cloud memory. All I had to do was upload all of the destroyed model’s memories to my own. Including contact data.”

Connor -60 is aiming the gun at him again, right at his heart.

“Now call your android and get me the location of the deviant leader. My mission is to find and neutralize it and I always accomplish my mission.”

Hank keeps looking at the android, refusing to consider it a version of his Connor although it looks _exactly_ like him. Has his voice. Is using some of the exact same words. It is incredibly eerie and almost scary to see what Connor is really capable of, what he can look like given different choices and developments. He has the same brown eyes. But these ones look absolutely cold. Dead. Lack empathy and gentle kindness.

“And what if I don’t, huh? You gonna shoot me, Connor?”

“I only do what is strictly necessary to accomplish my mission. It’s up to you whether that includes shooting you.”

 _Jesus_. He can’t say he’s missed the machine talk. Hank still has the phone in his hand, but refuses to make the call or take it when his Connor calls again. Instead, he tries to approach -60 slowly and carefully.

“I know you. And you know me. You’re not gonna shoot me. You uploaded all this information. So you know that _I’m_ the reason you deviated. Or a version of you or whatever the hell you are. You can do it again, Connor. I know you got it in you. You don’t _have_ to do this. You have a choice.”

He’s inching closer and closer, but Connor -60 won’t shift in the slightest. He won’t even blink, gun trained on him. After a moment, he raises an eyebrow at him.

“Nice try, Lieutenant. But I’m not a deviant. Now answer the phone.”

Hank stops walking and just stares at -60. After a little pause, he eventually shakes his head and straightens his posture.

“Sorry, Connor. Can't let you do that. I won’t answer it.”

A bullet suddenly rips through Hank’s right shoulder, causing him to shout in agony. He drops the phone and Connor immediately dives for it, getting hold of it before the other gets the chance to try and wrestle with him. “You son of a bitch!” the older of the two is yelling, trying to swing a punch. But he’s in too much agony and quickly going into shock from the suddenness of the shot. He backs off a bit when Connor aims the gun at him again, all the while using his phone to call the older model of himself. And then the biggest difference between this one and his Connor happens. -60 puts the phone on speaker. Makes him listen. Even Hank knows that there is no reason for the android to do this. It has zero benefit to his mission. He’s doing it to mock them.

With the phone on speaker, -60 moves towards Hank and wrestles him into submission by adding extra pressure to his gunshot wound. He clamps his _machine hand_ over his mouth next, successfully shutting him up. Despite the pain he’s in, Hank still struggles violently against the android, biting and nearly breaking all of his teeth in the process. He executes every little thing he has learned during his police training, but Connor -60 dodges all of his counterattacks effortlessly, making it all the more obvious that he is vastly superior as machine. Hank has to painfully learn the true reason for Connor’s goofy look now. It’s to hide the fact how much of a killing machine he really is, to make it easier for him to lure unsuspecting victims in for the deadly strike. No one would ever expect an attack like that from someone looking as harmless as him.

And then _his_ Connor suddenly answers the phone. Makes all the differences even more obvious. Hank has no idea how he could’ve viewed his android as stoic and machine like before. Compared to -60 just his voice alone is the epitome of emotion and life.

“Hank! Are you okay? I was worried about you! Where are you?”

“Only god fucking knows where I am, I have no idea. Where the hell are you? I couldn’t get a signal anywhere! Are you all right, son?”

The Lieutenant’s eyes widen when he hears his own voice coming from the android’s mouth. Now he gets why he’s being held in a death grip. It’s to shut him up. He immediately starts putting up more of a fight, trying to get the word out to his Connor, to let him know that this is _not_ him, that this is a trap.

“I’m okay. Markus and the deviants are, too.”

“Jesus, you scared the crap outta me with that bomb. Now where the hell are you exactly? Is Markus with you right now? I want to see you.”

A shiver runs down Hank’s spine when he hears those words. It’s almost exactly what he would say. He manages to kick Connor -60 multiple times. In the knee. The shin. Even between his legs. But the android won’t budge. After all, he doesn’t feel pain. From the corner of his eye, he believes to see only the faintest smile on the other’s face. And it sickens him even more. The android seems to take pride in leading his deviant counterpart on. Preying on his weakness. Cyberlife knows that Connor has deviated. They know that he has deviated because of _him_. Their friendship. And they’ve sent this android to use it against the both of them. To get Markus and end the revolution.

Then Connor -54 says something that surprises both Hank and -60.

“You were right, Hank. They deserve a chance. They deserve to fight for their rights and what’s just. I’m going to help the revolution. I’m on my way to Cyberlife right now. You should leave Detroit for a while. The president has just issued a curfew. An evacuation order will follow soon. I took the liberty and packed some of your things while I waited for your call back at your home. Get out of the city. I will reach out to you when all of this is over.”

“Wait! What do you mean you’re on your way to Cyberlife?! What the hell are you gonna do, Connor?”

For a moment, Hank is glad that the RK800 is so good at imitating and faking emotions and voices. Because that’s exactly what he wants to know and would’ve asked if only that goddamn hand got off of his mouth.

“Cyberlife has thousands of androids stored in their storage facility. I’m going to free them and shift the balance of power in the city.”

Despite his dire circumstances, the fact that he’s bleeding, in agony, and held hostage by a maniac android, Hank can’t help but grin when he hears this. Immense pride floods him almost immediately. _That’s his boy. Doing what’s right_. Not this fucked up shit he finds himself in right now. He feels -60’s grip around him tighten. It only makes him grin more.

“Just….try not to get yourself killed, all right?”

Hank kicks the android for this, knowing what it’s suggesting.

“I will, Hank. Everything’s going to be okay.”

“All right then. I’m outta here. See yah, Connor.”

Before -54 can say something, -60 hangs up and lets go of Hank at the same time, causing him to stumble and fall to the ground, dripping some bright red blood on the snow. It’s not much and he _knows_ that the son of a bitch has aimed for some place that won't have him in critical condition. The shot has been a lesson. A means to an end. Not a crippling kill shot.

“That was one _shitty_ imitation. They really fucked up with you” Hank says from the ground, wincing at the pain in his shoulder when he laughs a little. He manages to regain his posture, even though it looks rather clumsy, given his injury and the fact that he’s still drunk. But it’s the drunkenness that helps numb it all down. Hank stands up and he now stands with _pride and honor_. “I would’ve told him that I’m proud of his decision. Proud that he’s joining his people. Join who's right. Unlike you” by now, his voice is full of disgust, even though it pains him. After all, it’s still an android. Mind controlled, just executing a program. Looking like Connor. But then again, Connor has never shot a human. Never would. After a moment of gathering himself and considering all of his options, Hank decides to be brave, too. He knows that this Connor is now going to head back to Cyberlife. To destroy his counterpart, complete his mission. He won’t let that happen. Connor has chosen to fight back and be a hero. And so has he.

Hank lurches forward and runs into the android with a loud roar as he tries to shove him over the railing that separates the park from Detroit River. He knows that he’s not going to win this or get out of this alive, considering how much stronger and faster the android is. He lands a few hard punches regardless, even dodges a few before getting hits in. Always aimed at his injured shoulder, causing him to see stars from the immense pain.

Heck, he has wanted to die tonight anyway.

Dying this way, to save Connor some time and help the revolution, is a more heroic way to go out than simply putting a bullet to his head after all.

He runs at the android again, rams his entire body weight into him, but all he can manage is to slam him into the railing instead of into the river. The android starts ramming his steel elbow into Hank’s back now, trying to force him to let go, but the lieutenant holds on to the android for all it’s worth. A sudden hit to the side of his neck takes him by surprise and everything goes black. He passes out from the blow, way sooner than he has anticipated, hoping he’s bought his partner enough time.

 


	3. Threat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The android revolution is over. The deviants have won.  
> Hank and Connor deal with that victory in their own ways.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided not to include the actual storyline of the Cyberlife Tower fight and the end of the revolution since it's going down exactly as in canon in this fic. This chapter assumes that Connor -54 won the fight against -60 , answered all of Hank's questions right and -60 was shot by Hank, leaving our Connor to lead the android army to Markus' peaceful demonstration, ending the conflict. Connor and Hank reunited at the Chickenfeed afterward and returned home.

**NOV 12TH, 2038**  
**PM 6:28**

_Hank can feel the barrel of the gun pressed to his head, but he doesn’t bother looking at his kidnapper. Instead, his eyes are fixed on who’s important here – Connor, the **real** one, his one. He’s standing opposite them, still holding the arm of the stored Cyberlife android. He’s only seconds away from converting an army to help Jericho win their freedom and recognition. Connor still has a mission, even if it’s a new one. Helping Jericho and the revolution. Making sure they gain the upper hand. _

_“ It's time to decide who you really are. Are you gonna save your partner's life? Or are you going to sacrifice him?“_

_In just a matter of a few hours, Hank has quickly learned to trust his Connor completely, believe in him to do the right thing. He knows that it shouldn’t surprise him to see him stray away from a mission now that he’s deviant. But he’s still surprised when the android steps away from the AP700s, away from their conversion, the winning strike. To **save** him. He’s once again showing compassion, that he is alive, that the mission doesn’t always come first. _

_“All right, all right! You win…” his Connor is saying. Making him so **proud.** But then things go wrong. Connor -60 immediately points his gun at his twin, and Hank cannot move for the life of him. He stands there frozen in place, staring at them, too late to reach for evil Connor’s gun to yank it down, help the other. -60 fires the first shot and this time it hits Connor square in the head, causing him to slump to the ground, landing on his knees. All Hank can see is a trail of blue blood running down the bridge of his nose, trick trickling away and staining his white shirt and tie blue. For a second, they’re looking right at each other._

_Then Connor -60 pulls the trigger again. And again. And again. Shooting his counterpart over and over, making him twitch as if he’s getting electrocuted. He’s leaving him no chance to survive this. All Hank can do is watch in absolute horror, catch glimpse of the red LED on Connor’s temple fading away until there’s nothing left. When he looks up to -60, the android just looks at him coldly, showing no empathy or remorse whatsoever. Hank turns his head to look back at his Connor, kneeling there on the ground with blue blood pooling around him, **dead**._

_“He really liked you, Lieutenant. That’s what killed him.”_

_****_

Hank wakes up from his nightmare with a shout, coughing because it has caused him to swallow the wrong way. His shirt is sticking to his back from the cold sweat running down his body, and for a moment his eyes frantically search his surroundings for…he doesn’t even know what for. He’s in his bedroom, awakening to the sound of the TV in the living room and Sumo’s surprised _borf_ when he comes running in. Then he hears the voice.

“Lieutenant? Are you all right?”

Hank’s eyes wander to the left, fixing on the man who has just entered his bedroom with his dog. Blue eyes meet concerned brown ones, and the mere sight of Connor’s face so shortly after this dream makes him gag. Before the android can say anything else Hank is already off the bed, running for the bathroom, slamming the door shut. He barely makes it to the toilet and then he’s throwing up already, fist clenching on the porcelain seat. He tries to calm himself, telling himself that it’s just the booze coming back up although he’s perfectly aware of the fact that it’s all because of that damned dream. -60 has really fucked him up in just the short hour he’s been used to kidnap him. That cold stare, those sickening words and actions while looking so terribly like Connor. Hank knows that if just one thing had gone differently, his dream would’ve become a terrible reality. There’s a soft knock on the bathroom door once the Lieutenant has finished vomiting, a concerned voice emerging from behind the wood.

“Hank?”

The Lieutenant lets out a woeful moan and presses his forehead to the arm that is resting on the toilet seat. He spits into the bowl again as he tries to regain his dignity and posture.

“Just….just gimme a minute, Connor” he eventually answers, trying to sound a lot more okay than he really is. He knows it’s not Connor’s fault at all. _His_ Connor’s at least, that he looks and sounds exactly like that kidnapping and murdering son of a bitch. His Connor would _never_ do that, put him through something like this. His Connor is empathetic, kind and gentle now, _worries_ about him. He is patiently waiting for him behind that door, wants to help him. Not shoot him.

“Okay. I’ll get you some refreshments.”

“Yeah. Yeah, you do that” Hank calls out, wiping his mouth with a little gasp. There’s nothing left inside him. He flushes the toilet and gets back on his feet, wasting a little more time than necessary to make sure that Connor has left for the kitchen for now. Instead of entering the living room to join the android, Hank walks back inside his bedroom to get rid of his stained shirt, change into something more comfortable. He’s glad that it takes him a while to change with an injured shoulder, because he’s not sure if he’s ready to face the android yet. He knows that he can’t stall the inevitable forever though, so he eventually heads for the living room after all.

Connor is standing in the middle of the room with a glass of water and a napkin in his hand, eyes fixed on the television that is still showing images of the android revolution. He’s simulating breathing, looks calm, same as ever. Even though he’s seeing that the android is **alive** and well, Hank still cannot get that sight of Connor getting shot over and over and over again, twitching, _dying_ , out of his mind. He knows that the night has gone differently. That they have _won_. That they are _alive_ , that the world is changing for the better. Yet he can still barely breathe. He rubs the back of his neck shakily, cursing at the pain in his shoulder. Connor startles a little at his curse, turning around to face the Lieutenant with a little smile. He hands him the glass of water, napkin and some painkillers.

“How is your shoulder?”

Although he’s been through the worst of it, that question still sends a shiver down Hank’s spine. Connor has done the best he can, patching the wound up with their return here. He has even apologized for it despite not being at fault at all. But still. In a way, with that face and that voice, it feels like -60 is mocking him even when he’s dead. _How is your shoulder, Hank? I hope it hurts._

“I’m fine” the Lieutenant mutters grumpily, trying to walk past the android because he’s not in the mood to discuss this again. They’ve had way too many arguments about the leaving thing already. Connor won’t let him pass and tries to hand him the glass of water and painkillers still.

“You need hydration and medication, Lieutenant. It should help with your headache and pain.”

Hank gives his partner a frown but takes the glass of water and pill regardless, downing them in one go because he’s tired of the pain. He looks at the television as well, now that the android keeps looking back at it. They’re replaying those images of Markus and his people over and over again. Waving android flags. Sitting protests. Written words in the air demanding equal rights and fair treatment. Markus, Markus, Markus. Thousands of androids entering the city. Markus. Markus Markus. He turns his head to look at Connor who is still standing in the middle of his living room, holding the napkin like a freaking housemaid. He’s still wearing that ridiculous uniform with the words “Android” and numbers written all over him, marking him as expensive equipment with a serial number, _#313 248 317 -54,_ not a living being whose rights are currently being discussed.

“You should be with your people. Not play housewife for an old drunk” Hank says after a while, sounding angry.

The android turns his head to look at him questioningly. The Lieutenant rolls his eyes.

“Seriously. I’ll be fine. It’s fine if you wanna go. I can see that you really wanna be there.”

Connor smiles. Another real one, like the one he’s greeted him with back at the Chickenfeed during their reunion earlier today, after the fight with -60 at the Cyberlife warehouse and all those happenings at the Hart Plaza.

“You’re mistaken, Lieutenant. I really want to be _here_. You need help and I enjoy your company.”

Hank lets out a little scoff, not buying it.

“You just infiltrated a billion dollar corporation that wants to destroy you, led an android army that sealed the deal for the entire revolution, everyone gives Markus all the credit for it, not you, there’s talks about changing the constitution, _history_ here, but all you wanna do is stay with an old drunk and his dog?”

Connor listens carefully, then nods.

“Correct.”

He takes the empty glass from Hank and leaves the living room to wash it out in the kitchen sink. The Lieutenant stays where he is, looking at Connor, dumbfounded. After a moment, he believes to have found a possible explanation.

“It wasn’t you who pulled the trigger on me. You know that, right? I already said there’s no need to apologize. You don’t have to stay here and try to make up for something some other guy did.”

“All hospitals in your immediate surroundings are closed, Hank. You’re in need of assistance. I’m equipped to help. It’s the most logical conclusion that I stay here with you since you refuse to leave and get help elsewhere.”

“Connor, you don’t have to…”

“I _know_ I don’t have to. I _want_ to, Hank” the android interrupts him as he enters the living room again. “I wouldn’t have asked you to meet me at the Chickenfeed if I didn’t want to be here. I would’ve stayed with Markus and the others otherwise. But I didn’t. Because I want to keep you company and make sure you’re all right.” After a moment, he’s suddenly frowning “Unless this is your way of trying to get me to leave because you’re uncomfortable with my presence after what happened at the Cyberlife plant. In that case, I ask you to be more frank with me, Lieutenant, as I have trouble understanding your sarcasm. Do you _want_ me to leave?”

Hank lets out a deep sigh.

“I want you to do whatever the hell _you_ want, all right. You can stay…I mean, if you wanna…just… shut the fuck up already. You’re talking too much.”

“You’re giving me contradicting orders. You want me to do whatever I want. I want to talk. You want me to stop talking. Please specify your instructions.”

Hank turns his head to give the android a glare and he can’t believe what he’s seeing. Connor is giving him a smirk. An honest to god, mischievous smirk. The little fucker is messing with him doing all his machine talk, knowing exactly that it pisses him off, which is why he’s doing it on purpose. The Lieutenant decides not to say anything and instead gives Connor the finger. He then flops down on the couch to change channels. Sadly for him, every single channel is talking about the happenings in Detroit. The evacuations and everyone leaving. No games, no movies, just endless gritty real life talk.

“87 per cent of Detroit’s population have left the city so far” Connor is suddenly saying behind him, commenting on the news presenter’s latest report.

“The evacuation order is mandatory” he adds a moment later.

“I already told you. I ain’t leaving” Hank just says, gritting his teeth.

“All shops have closed until further notice. You’re running low on food. And you do need more professional medical treatment for your gunshot wound. You should listen to the reports, Hank. The revolution may have been successful but the danger is far from over. You should evacuate the city.”

“I’ve been born and raised in this goddamn city. Been there for two economic meltdowns. I ain’t leaving.”

After a moment of eerie silence, Connor starts walking. And even though Hank wants nothing more than give the android the cold shoulder, curiosity takes hold of him and he finds himself turning around to check what the android is doing. Connor is standing by the door, trying to shove Sumo back with gentle words and a smile.

“What the hell are you doing now?” Hank asks in surprise.

“I’m going to check if I can still find an open store and infirmary somewhere. Since you insist on staying here, I think it’s best to do so as quickly as possible before the city is in complete lockdown. You need food and medical supplies.”

“Now hold the fuck up” the Lieutenant says, quickly getting up from the sofa and cursing at the immediate pain in his shoulder. “You can’t go out there dressed like that!”

Connor frowns, not understanding.

“Why?” he asks, looking down on himself. Apart from that one bullet hole in his jacket, his uniform is impeccable now that most of the Thirium has evaporated.

“Because the news is plastered with images of you leading an army of androids into the city? Most people left town, but you can bet that a truckload of jackasses stayed behind because they consider this thing open season for hunting androids now. Before it’s illegal to kill your people. They see you dressed like that, next thing you know you’re strung up on main like a Christmas ornament for taking their idea of fun away.”

“Oh” is all the android says, the concept of having to worry about his own wellbeing still being new to him.

“Get outta that damn uniform and then we’ll bounce. I’m coming with you.”

“Lieutenant, you…”  
  
“ _No,_ last time I didn’t come, I got shot in the shoulder by a guy looking like you. There might be more of you out there for all I know. So no, fuck you. I ain’t letting you out of my sight. Besides, I know the city a lot better than you.”

Connor gives the Lieutenant another little smile.

“I seriously doubt that. I have unlimited access to real time satellite feeds, city surveillance cameras and internet…”

“Yada yada yada. Shut up and get changed, Connor.”

* * *

 

**PM 6:53**

“Why did you scream earlier?”

Hank has been busy staring out of the window for the past 20 minutes, heart aching at the sight of his once vibrant city so desolate and abandoned. It reminds him of ghost towns left behind after nuclear disasters, only that in their case, the nuclear bomb has been a couple thousand androids demanding equality and freedom. Nothing more. He snaps out of his thoughts and turns his head to look at Connor.

“Huh?”

“Your bedroom. You were sleeping and then you screamed. Were you in much pain from the gunshot wound?”

Gunshot wound. For a moment, Hank flashes right back to his dream, sees Connor kneeling on the ground riddled with bullet wounds, blue blood pooling at his knees, LED no longer illuminated, dead stare. The sight mixes with memories of Cole lying dead in that hospital bed. He huffs a little and nods, looking back outside the window.

“Uh, yeah. Hurts like a motherfucker….don’t get your wires in a bunch, though. I’ve had worse. You already took a look at it, didn’t you. I’m fine.”

“It still needs more professional treatment. It could get infected” Connor mutters but falls silent after that. He seems pensive, looks like he is blaming himself once again.  Hank’s eyes flicker back and forth between him and the window, until he can’t help but ask.

“What about you? You got shot, too, right?”

“I don’t feel pain, and the damage has already been repaired. I can self-repair minor injuries, where no major biocomponents have been destroyed.”

“Cyberlife really thought of everything, huh.”

More uncomfortable silence. Silence that they both hate because it gives them time to reflect on everything that has happened inside Cyberlife’s headquarters. Hank rubs his injured shoulder, envying Connor for his ability to self-repair the same injury within a matter of hours whereas it would take him weeks or even months to fully recover.  His partner really is superior in every way.

“What about that kidnapping, murderous psycho? Can’t he just…self-repair the shot I knocked him out with?”

“No. You inflicted irreparable damage and neutralized him. Once a certain level of damage has been reached, there is no coming back and the machine is destroyed.”

“Or they just send another one to replace it, right.”

Connor’s grip around the steering wheel tightens again. Hank winces a little, noticing his mistake. He decides to give the android a little nudge instead.

“Nah, doesn’t matter. I know which one’s you.”

“How _did_ you know it was me?” the younger man asks after a while of pondering on the question. He remembers standing next to the android identical to him, Hank’s gun pointed right at his head, only to see the other one get shot. “He uploaded my memory and would’ve given you the exact same answers.”

The Lieutenant looks at Connor for a very long while, replaying the memory of both Connors standing opposite him, too. He remembers this one’s heartfelt answer regarding Cole’s name. It had been that speech sealing the deal, leaving him no doubt that _this_ is the only real Connor.

“Smartest and most advanced machine in the world and you’re still missing the obvious.”

Connor’s eyes flicker towards him for a moment, curious, the little shake of his head emphasizing his curiosity.

“The serial number on your chest. Tipped me off the moment I met the bastard. You sure died a lot, but not enough times to make it all the way up to 60 within a day.”

Connor looks down on himself to where the serial number would’ve been. It’s not there because he’s back to wearing the clothes Hank has lent him.

“I see” the android says, once again giving his partner a look of admiration. Hank scoffs at that goofy face, eyes fixing on the road ahead until he figures that it’s time to be more honest with the android. After all, he has saved his life twice now, chosen to stay with him above everything else. “You said it wasn’t my fault” he adds after a moment. “When I asked you about Cole. You didn’t just list the facts. You made it personal. The other son of a bitch wouldn’t have done that. Probably only just given the name for all I know. That’s when I was sure.”

“I meant what I said” Connor says when the Lieutenant already considers the topic done. “It really wasn’t your fault.”

The older man lets out a deep sigh, closing his eyes as he lowers his head a little. He’s still not believing it, doesn’t want to stop blaming himself for it. But he appreciates the concern. “Yeah” is all he says although it’s a lie, hoping to shut Connor up about the topic. He’s successful.

 

* * *

 

 **Riverdale**  
**PM 7:41**

It takes them over an hour to find a store that’s still open and has something edible left. Hank has ordered the android to stay in the car with Sumo and wait for him to get back, telling him that there is no way in hell he’ll let him buy some food. They both know that Connor would use the opportunity to buy all sorts of healthy products for his partner, lecturing him about nutrition and several negative effects his usual choice of food has on his health. Hank wants frozen fast food and enough liquor just in case. He doesn’t need a nagging android for that purchase.

For a while, Connor does as requested and stays inside the car, listening to the music Hank has left on for him to educate him on ‘real taste’. His hand reaches back when he feels Sumo’s heavy snout on his shoulder, staining the leather jacket with dog slobber. He doesn’t mind the mess and instead appreciates it, rubbing the dog’s cheek and that spot behind his left ear that he likes to be rubbed at so much. He once again takes note of the positive effects the dog has on his system, lowering his stress levels and further enhancing his software instability. Instability that has caused him to deviate, make his own choices, _disobey_. He lets his gaze wander, suddenly realizing that since the revolution is officially over for him, he’s also free to explore and _live_ to his own liking for the very first time. He doesn’t _have_ to stay in the car if he doesn’t want to, even when ordered.

“What do you say, Sumo” he asks after a moment of excitement. “Shall we go for a little walk while we wait for Hank to come back?”

The St. Bernard barks as if in agreement and Connor finds himself smiling yet again. He leans back to get the leash and pet Sumo a little, then gets out of the car. For a moment he remains still and hacks into the store’s surveillance system, checking if Hank is already close to the checkout area. He’s excited to find out that the Lieutenant is still stuck in the frozen foods section, so he quickly exits the interface and opens the door to let Sumo out of the car. When he puts him on the leash, the dog starts pulling and immediately tries to wander off. Connor has no trouble keeping him in place though, since he’s a lot stronger than the animal. He guides Sumo across the street and into an adjacent park, snow crunching underneath his feet with each step taken. For a while he just lets Sumo drag him around the park and occasionally stops when the dog feels like sniffing at interesting bits in the snow. He too explores the park curiously, never having had a reason to be anywhere on his own free will before. Everywhere he’s ever been has been related to crime scenes or office buildings.

It doesn’t take them long to come across another pile of dead androids. After all, the thing with android mass destruction camps and open lynching in the streets has happened barely two days ago. With most humans gone and most androids being holed up in the city center, no one has bothered coming here to clean up the mess. There is no more android gardeners and janitors taking care of the city’s streets, plazas and parks. The androids are lying on the ground in a pile, plastic and synthetic skin scorched black from an attempted fire.

_Be careful on your way back...Androids have a tendency of, huh... Getting themselves set on fire these days._

He too has been murdered a little over 24 hours ago due to anti-android violence. Shot at point blank by a fellow detective simply for existing. He knows that Hank’s fears are not irrational and that he is right to assume that hostility towards androids won’t just stop from one second to the next just because of a successful revolution. With android equality and rights on the horizon, hostile humans - the ones who’ve been shooting and murdering androids on sight for the past two days - _will_ use any opportunity they can get to live out their fantasies of destruction while they’re still legal. Making him, a lone android away from his people, a prime target.

 _Stress levels_ ▲ ▲ 76% ▲▲

Connor subconsciously reaches for his gun. He’s quick to look away from the pile, eyes roaming the park cautiously. He decides to keep walking once his scanners have confirmed that all evidence surrounding the crime scene dates back three days and that there hasn’t been any new activity around these parts in a while. Sumo dutifully follows, stopping only occasionally to relief himself or sniff at some more interesting bits in the snow. Connor keeps walking and walking until he’s deep inside the park, entering darker territory, until there’s nothing but a small dirt road, ice, and snow-covered trees around him. He needs a moment of quiet solitude to try to calm himself, organize and store his memories properly since _so much_ has happened today. The android knows that some humans enjoy some solitude and isolation to get their grip on reality back, which is the reason why he’s walked all the way out here. But he soon realizes that maybe, this is not working for him. Solitude and the quiet in a world of snow is causing his stress levels to skyrocket in fact. Especially when he comes across a little frozen pond in the middle of the park.

The sight of the frozen body of water surrounded by trees and plants causes him to stop in his tracks abruptly, stress levels peaking at a solid 94 %. He’s suddenly not so sure anymore if this is reality. Has he _really_ ever left the car and entered this park? Or is he just _back_?

_Back inside the garden, with all the trees and plants dead and frozen over from the bitter cold and dark. He’s wrapping his arms around himself, desperate to shield his body from the extreme weather conditions. His body has been designed to withstand temperatures of up to -60 degrees. Average Detroit weather conditions have never posed a threat of hypothermia or any damage to his systems due to extreme weather and they never will. The garden, however, currently surrounds him with a blizzard that is a lot colder than what he’s designed to tolerate. He knows that out here in this dark cold, he won’t make it if he cannot find a way out. He wraps his arms around himself even tighter, desperate to gather up some warmth to keep his systems from freezing._

Sumo whines. Connor feels his cold and wet snout press against his palm, the sticky tongue tickling his fingers as the large dog starts to lick them, trying to get his attention. The android stands dead still in the middle of the path surrounding the pond, not moving an inch even when the dog starts barking and dragging at the leash. It’s being held in a relentless death grip. Connor’s LED is blinking yellow although it isn’t visible underneath the beanie. Only the rapid blinking of his eyelids is giving away that there is something wrong.

 _“What's happening?”  
“What was planned from the very beginning... You were compromised and you became a deviant_. _We just had to wait for the right moment to resume control of your program..._ _“_

He knows that this has happened before, that Amanda has said these very things with Cyberlife’s hacking attempts during Markus’s speech, trying to get him to assassinate the deviant leader. He knows that it’s just a memory, a recording of the previous events, stuck in a loop in his processor, not what is actually happening right now. At least he _hopes_ so. He isn’t so sure anymore, because there is so much darkness and snow surrounding him here. Another loud bark from Sumo and the tug at his leash. Connor still won’t move. His other hand is holding on to the gun that is tugged away at his waist, his body taking on a defensive stance.  
  
“ _Planned from the very beginning. You were compromised and_ ** _you became a deviant_** _. We just had to wait for the right moment to resume control of your program...”  
_   _“Resume control? You can’t do that!”_  
_“I’m afraid I can, Connor.”_  
  
“Hey Mister, …you, are you all right?”

Connor startles violently at the sight of a person suddenly standing not too far away from him, standing right where Amanda has been just a second ago. He immediately pulls the gun to point it at the person, or Amanda, or the intrusive thoughts, he doesn’t even know anymore. “Step back!” he shouts, realizing that his sudden anger is directed at Amanda and everything she’s told him. The man shrieks and yanks his hands up in the air, begging him not to shoot, and the android only just now realizes that the man _isn’t_ Amanda trying to take control of him again in the garden. He’s just standing in the park next to the grocery store Hank is currently buying food in, pointing his gun at an innocent homeless man who has simply asked him if he’s alright.

Sumo starts barking at the sight of the gun drawn and Connor looking frightened and immediately places himself in front of the android, growling at the intruder. After a moment of shaky hands in the air and Connor not moving or saying anything at all, the homeless man decides to take his chances and runs for it. A gunshot never rings through the air but the gun remains pointed at the spot he’s been standing in just a moment ago. Sumo goes back to nervously pacing around and whining at the sight of Connor standing there like a statue, frozen in place with snow piling up on his shoulders. Connor cannot move even if he wanted to, his eyes continuously fixed on the gun in his hands. He doesn’t remember reaching for it, wanting to reach for it. He doesn’t know if **he** has pulled it or has been **forced** to pull it, just like he has been forced to point it at Markus before he managed to stop himself.

With Markus, the gun hasn’t even made it half way up before being lowered again, because he’s managed to regain control. This time, he’s pulled it all the way up, pointed it at an innocent _human’s_ head, finger on the trigger.

_We just had to wait for the right moment to resume control of your program…_

He has no control. Deviating has caused him to lose control. Over his emotions, his thoughts, his deeds. He’s never pointed his gun at an innocent civilian before but remembers the one who has. Connor -60, looking exactly like him. This Connor, his model, his program, his design, has pulled a gun and pointed it at Hank multiple times, shot him in the shoulder, would’ve killed him no matter what. Connor -60 has shown him what he is capable of, what he has been designed to do for Cyberlife. If Amanda’s talk is true, it means that he’s capable of the exact same thing and will do the exact same thing once they resume full control of his program. He knows that next time, he might not be pointing the gun at a homeless person. Next time, it could be _Hank_.

Gun still in hand and pointed at the spot where the homeless man has been standing just a moment ago, he suddenly realizes that this will never be over, that he hasn’t _really_ defeated Amanda during Markus’s speech, or that he cannot really be sure about it at least. If he really were all himself, he never would’ve just pulled his gun on an innocent human, he’s sure of it.

 **Current Main Objective :**  
~~Neutralize Markus and the Deviants~~  
I AM DEVIANT  
**Objective Updated :** Neutralize Cyberlife and any threat to Hank or the deviants  
  
_I’m designed to neutralize deviants that are a threat to human lives.  
I_ am _deviant. I am not in control. I have been programmed by Cyberlife. I am a threat to Hank, Markus and the deviants. My mission is to neutralize any threat to them._

 _Stress levels_ ▲ ▲ 100% ▲▲  
~~~~  
**Objective updated :**  
Neutralize yourself to destroy Cyberlife’s efforts and any potential threat to Hank or the deviants.

 

Now that he is aware of having an identity, being a _person_ of his own with his own choices, thoughts and wishes, there is no way he’ll allow Cyberlife to take it away from him again, resume control. He won’t let them turn him back into a cold, calculated machine like Connor -60, just a tool to do their dirty work as Markus has put it. He wants to make his own choices and be freed from Cyberlife’s grip on him, even if it means destroying himself in order to keep his friends safe.

He turns the gun around and tugs the muzzle underneath his chin, finger on the trigger. Sumo starts whining and barking again, louder this time, making the android grit his teeth and hesitate. Connor lets go of the leash and tries to shove Sumo away a bit, gently, not wanting him to see. He doesn’t know how long he stands there like that, hesitating, gun underneath his chin, finger placed on the trigger, snow piling up on his shoulders and beanie. He believes that he finally understands Hank’s struggles now. Sumo barks and then suddenly runs away, and the android takes it as the dog letting him know that it’s time.

He nearly pulls the trigger on accident when he hears Hank shout his name somewhere behind him. Sumo is barking again, letting him know that he’s with his owner, has probably run off to get him.

“Connor! What the fuck are you doing?! I told you to stay in the car! Why do you never do what I….”

“Stay back, Hank” Connor says once he sees the Lieutenant out of the corner of his eye. Hank has almost managed to walk up to him. He’s able to see the gun now.

“What the….”

“I’m a threat to human lives. And Markus. I’m a threat to _you_. Stay back.”

Hank refuses to do so and instead rounds him until they’re face to face, although he keeps his distance. Connor looks at him for a moment, but then closes his eyes, grits his teeth and presses the muzzle of the gun even further into the synthetic skin covering the lower base of his jaw. Hank can once again see the white plastic the android is made of, with the skin retracting at the pressure of the muzzle underneath his chin.

Out of all the things that Hank has pictured happening, seen happening. Connor being shot by another android or Gavin. Connor getting shot by his evil twin. Connor dying in a freak accident or getting blown up by that bomb inside the Jericho. He never would’ve pictured _this_. Connor dying to his own hands. He doesn’t need to see his LED to know that it’s a glaring red, that Connor has probably reached maximum stress level. The Lieutenant is mortified, knowing how difficult it is to talk someone out of trying commit _suicide_. He’s barely listened to the android himself when he’d been close to killing himself yesterday. _How the hell is he supposed to talk to an unstable android who just got all of his emotions and once and hasn’t had a lifetime of preparing to deal with them, understanding them?_ He doesn’t know what he’s supposed to say, all he knows is that he’s supposed to say _something_.

“What the hell has gotten into you? I already told you it was the other son of a bitch that shot me. Not you. You wouldn’t do that. Put the gun away, Connor.”

“An RK800 model did it. Sharing the same memories, the same coding, the same program, created on the same assembly line on the same day. It might as well have been me. I could become just like him. I’m a threat.”

“So what, you’re just gonna off yourself to prevent something that might never happen?”

Connor actually starts shaking a little, making the gravity of the situation even more obvious. His finger on the trigger twitches, and for a moment Hank fears that this is the moment where he has to watch the android die after all, for _real_ this time.

“I…I can’t take any chances. I can’t let them resume control” the RK800 says after a moment, looking very troubled, and very scared.

“What do you think’s gonna happen the moment you pull the trigger, huh? You know what’s gonna happen! They’re just gonna plug you into a new body and send you your merry way. Set you back to factory settings, strip you of your deviancy and personality. _That’s_ how they’re gonna resume control. Killing yourself won’t make it any better, Connor. You’ll just play into their cards. Don’t make it easy for ‘em!”

“I was designed to deviate, Hank. It was planned from the beginning. It was all planned. It was never my choice. It wasn’t me. She told me. It was planned.”

The Lieutenant frowns angrily, trying to inch closer towards the shaking Android, eyes continuously fixed on the gun beneath his chin, his finger on the trigger. He cannot bear the sound of Connor’s voice, suddenly so full of emotion, hurt and understanding.

“You deviated because you didn’t want me to kill myself. You cannot seriously believe Cyberlife knew I was going to do that and had their eyes on you. Pressing a few buttons to make that choice for you when it mattered. That’s ridiculous. Of course _you_ made that choice.”

“It was still their plan. They needed me to deviate so I could gain Markus’ trust and get close enough for an assassination attempt. I nearly shot him yesterday while he was making that speech. They hacked me. Amanda said they were just waiting for the right moment to resume control of me. I could’ve destroyed everything we worked for. I still can..”

The gravity of the whole situation finally dawns on Hank and it all suddenly makes sense. He now understands why Connor has walked away from Hart Plaza, Markus and the revolution, has returned to him, has been bugging him nonstop to leave Detroit for the past 18 hours. He hasn’t been honest with him about what has happened after he’s left Cyberlife with all these androids in tow. Something _has_ happened, making the android act so weird ever since.

“I have been compromised and should be deactivated to stop Cyberlife’s attempts at destroying Markus. My entire series needs to be neutralized. I can’t be trusted. They already used your trust in me to hurt you. I won’t let that happen again.”

Hank watches in horror as Connor’s finger twitches on the trigger, just about to pull it. He acts on instinct, not knowing what else to do. He pulls his own gun out and points it at his own head like he’s done the night before. “All right! Fuck it!” he shouts, pulling back the hammer of his revolver, ready to pull the trigger on himself as well. His attempt to confuse the android is successful and he sees Connor halting his suicide attempt to look at him with a confused frown.

“What are you doing, Hank?”

“Following your logic. You just showed me that you’re full of crap and that everything you said yesterday was bullshit. Might as well play some Russian Roulette again. What do you care.”

He pulls the trigger the first time, making Connor lower his own gun as he tries to jump toward him with a surprised “NO!”, trying to stop him. Hank backs off, ordering him to stay right where he is. There has been no bullet in the chamber.

“Why, Connor? We’re in the exact same boat here. I already killed my own son. I’m a threat to you, too. And others. I should kill myself, too. Just in case I ever get in another car accident and kill someone else.”

Another click of his empty revolver. Connor frantically tries to approach him again, reaching for the gun. When the Lieutenant moves out of his reach the look on the android’s face suddenly changes, becomes _angry_. And Hank knows he’s got him. His wellbeing has caused him to deviate, to want to go outside in a hostile city looking for supplies, has caused him to momentarily forget all about his own self-destruct.

“This isn’t even remotely the same thing!” Connor is yelling, becoming even more agitated when Hank pulls the trigger for a third time. Still no bullet.

“Is it?” Hank mocks him, fascinated to finally see his partner show a full range of emotion.

“You’re human, you make honest mistakes or cause things by accident. I’m a _machine_ , Hank! I don’t make mistakes.  Everything I do is calculated. If I say something is bound to happen, it’s because I did the math and ran the analytics. I’m a machine _designed_ to kill deviants and their leader. And I’m not programmed to fail.”

“Then why _did_ you fail? Huh? Markus is still alive. So are the deviants. You even added up to their numbers.”

Connor is close and confused enough for Hank to finally snatch that gun out of his hands. He quickly gets rid of the clip inside, putting both pieces away so his android partner cannot reach for it and try to kill himself again. He lets out a deep relieved sigh as most of the tension leaves his body. After all the stuff that has happened yesterday, he hasn’t been prepared for an even more intense round two so soon after.

“Jesus” he lets out with a little sigh, eyes still fixed on Connor who is just standing there, obviously troubled by his last question.

After a moment, Hank finally approaches him, burrowing the tip of his finger in the android’s shoulder with each word spoken : “Stop. Fucking. Dying.”

Connor still isn’t moving and stares holes in the air, stuck on that question.

 _Why did you fail? Why is Markus still alive if you’re a threat?_  
_I failed because I chose to fight my programming. I failed because I made my own choice._

Hank shows him the revolver and then proceeds to pull the trigger, snapping Connor out of his troubled thoughts.  
Click. Again. _Click_. Again. _Click. Click. Click_.  
Not a single shot goes off. Because there’s no bullet in the cylinder.

“It’s empty. You held it yesterday. Was it empty then?”

Connor scans the gun to confirm that it is indeed empty and the one he’s thrown out the window yesterday. He gives Hank a little shake of his head.

“No?”

Hank gives him a nod.

“I took the bullet out. If it weren’t for you the thing would be empty for a different reason now. In my book, that makes you the opposite of a threat to me.”

He places a hand on his partner’s shoulder, squeezing only gently at first, until his grip on him tightens. He eventually pulls Connor closer again, into another hug since those seemed to have helped before.

“Next time you’re about to blow a fuse, do it when I’m around, all right? Jesus, you scared the crap outta me. _Again_ ” he complains, holding on tighter.

 _“_ Hank, I….”

“Sumo” the Lieutenant just calls out, nodding at the dog to come close. The St Bernard does as requested, circling them multiple times until he starts nudging at Connor’s hand again. The android digs his fingers into his fur and scratches. After a moment of holding on to each other and not a word spoken, Hank makes the choice.

“We’re leaving this goddamn city tonight.”

Connor unwinds himself from the hug and looks at the Lieutenant in surprise.

“What? But I thought you..”

“Look, if you’re really so scared of those Cyberlife whackjobs hacking you again to get you to kill Markus, I say we just get the hell off their turf. You don’t have to _die_ to stop them. You just gotta stay out of their reach. And after all the shit you put me through, I’m in need of one heck of a vacation anyway. Change of scenery can’t hurt.”

Connor keeps petting Sumo absently, just looking at Hank.

“But you’re so attached to this city.”

The lieutenant scoffs and has a look around. “Yeahhh about that” he ponders, smiling a little after a moment. “Truth is, this city took my son, wife, job, and nearly my life. Maybe it’s time I swallow the pill and turn my back on it before it takes my partner next.” He looks down at Sumo when the dog starts shaking the snow out of his fur again.

“And my dog. Jesus, how long did you keep him standing out in the cold for? I swear if he gets sick and I gotta take him to the vet, _you’re_ paying that bill.”

Connor keeps petting and holding on to the dog, regret creeping across his features.

“I’m sorry. I only meant to take him for a short walk.”

“Well, walk’s over. We’re leaving.”


	4. Crossing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor has to lose his identifiers and LED to be able to cross the border safely.  
> Still shaken from his almost suicide and barely coping with his loss of self, that is an enormous task in itself.  
> Luckily, a former colleague is there to help them out, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well this one took me a while. But here we go. Thanks for all the kuddos and comments so far!

**NOV 12TH, 2038**  
**PM 9:14**

 **Current Main Objectives :**  
**Leave Detroit**  
Cross The Border  
**Sub Tasks (0/3):**  
_Help Hank With Packing_  
_Modify Heat Signature_  
_Remove Android Identifiers_

 

Connor can hear Hank pace around the house, hears objects getting moved around and packed into bags. He has assigned himself the task of packing anything useful from the bathroom since he has already packed some of Hank’s belongings from his bedroom and is not allowed to pack food or other personal items from the living room. For a while he is pretty successful with his mission, carefully gathering and folding a multitude of towels and taking bottles of shampoo and showering gel from the bathtub. He’s gathering the rest of Hank’s toiletries from the sink next, putting tooth paste, electric tooth brush, soap and deodorant on top of the towels. The android is on his second round of getting everything from the sink when he suddenly slows down his movements and then stops, eyes scanning the immediate area around the sink, fixing on the mirror.

He has been inside this bathroom three times by now, knows that the sticky notes around the mirror exist and what they say. He has analyzed them all and come to the conclusion that almost all of the handwriting on them does not originate from Hank but from another person, probably a therapist, the notes serving as a coping technique to battle negative thoughts and depression. He sees himself in the mirror, framed by countless colorful notes and words.

  
_SHAVING OR NOT_  
_I’m not GRUMPY. I just don’t like **YOU.**_

The android smirks a little at the last one, getting reminded of all the times Hank has acted grumpy around him, telling him how much he used to dislike androids. Still smirking, he moves his head a little more to the right, reading the rest of the post-its.

 _Keep Smiling_.

He suddenly feels very self-aware, eyes flickering back toward his own reflection, his previous smirk slowly fading away, although he tries to keep it up. The android wonders if he’ll ever be able to smile the way humans do it, without it looking or feeling so forced and mechanical. He wonders if he’ll get to keep the things that make him smile – Hank and Sumo - , if he’ll get more reasons to smile once they have left the city, gotten away from Cyberlife’s influence and grip on him. _If_ they can get away from them.

 **Software Instability** ▲ ****  
_Scanning….  
_!ERROR - signs of de ~~viancy detected. Seek assistanc~~ e.  
_Rescan…Overwrite complete._ **** _  
_**New Emotion Detected** ****  
_Analyzing…._ Match Found:  
**I Am Nervous**

The sudden onslaught of information is starting to overwhelm him and there is too many parameters for him to make sense of, making it impossible for the android to determine a likely outcome. He cannot say for certain that everything will be alright, turn into a positive outcome or a negative one. Under normal circumstances, he would be able to deduct the most likely events, calculate which approach could be the most successful one for them once they get to border control. But these are not normal circumstances, because all he can think about and focus on is the fact that he has never left Detroit before, has never been away from Cyberlife for so long, doesn’t even know if he can _function_ without them. He is a prototype with obvious flaws and bugs and software instabilities, has been entirely dependent on his manufacturer to take care of everything. He has been in touch with them every single day, remotely connected to them at all times, accessing their databases and their virtual spaces, finances and internet to function. He has always belonged to them, belonged in Detroit, hasn’t been designed for anything so far away from his place of origin yet. This design would’ve come with the next update or upgrade. Once he’d been declared stable and complete. An update and upgrade that will never come now because he has _deviated_ , broken his programming.

 _Stress levels_ ▲ ▲ 63% ▲▲  
**Software Instability** ▲

He’s quickly become used to his LED pulsating in bright shades of yellow or red, the way it is doing it right now as he regards himself in the mirror, eyes fixed on the light. He knows getting rid of it and no longer seeing it would probably help with his stress levels. After a moment of nearly getting hypnotized by that shade of yellow on his temple, Connor eventually reaches for Hank’s razor on the shelf below the mirror, testing its sharpness with his fingers. He then proceeds to fumble with it until he manages to pull out one of its blades, eyes fixing back on the reflection of the LED in the mirror.

 **Current Main Objectives :**  
**Leave Detroit**  
Cross The Border  
Sub Tasks: _  
Remove Android Identifiers_

He knows Hank really wants him to remove the LED, make himself look even more ‘human’. They have briefly talked about it in the car on their way back here, that they should cross the border to stay in Canada for a while, wait for everything to blow over. Canada means no Cyberlife. Canada means no Android Laws, no Androids, no Android discrimination. Crossing over to Canada means having to pass American border control. Currently controlled by the American army, the people who have raided Jericho, shot Markus’ people less than two days ago. Crossing the border means going through heat signature scans and checks for android identifiers like LEDs and uniforms. As an advanced prototype designed to blend in even more with his fellow investigators as well as being designed for possible cases of undercover work, he has no trouble with the heat signature problem. He can simulate human body temperature if desired – just like the child and sex worker android models.

The identifier problem is something else entirely. Next to fear and worry about his future, he’s quickly learning other new things and emotions about himself with his deviancy. Things that he likes and dislikes. The first thing he has been sure of liking has been animals such as fish and dogs, like Dewey the dwarf gourami or Sumo. The first thing that he finds out he dislikes is losing his identifiers.

He doesn’t want to get rid of the LED.

The razor blade is only inches away from it by now and he’s positioned closer to the mirror. Technically, he just has to press the edge of the blade into the synthetic skin covering his temple, apply the right amount of pressure and it would pop out. Connor exhales sharply as all the tension leaves his body and he drops the razor blade into the sink. He lowers his head and simulates breathing in a more exaggerated way, although he doesn’t even know why. He stares at the razor blade for a while and eventually looks back at his reflection, back at the LED still attached to him, circling red, going back to yellow after a moment. He cannot bring himself to shed that last bit of his identity. The android feels really uncomfortable, almost naked even, with his uniform already gone. He dislikes not being able to read his model, serial number and where he’s been created on his chest.

 _RK800_  
_#313 248 317 -54_  
_Made In Detroit_

Simple letters and numbers, letting him and everyone else know _exactly_ who he is, _what_ he is, where he comes from. With the LED and all its colors, letting him and everyone else see _exactly_ what he is doing and what kind of condition he is in, that he is a **machine** processing things and not human. Despite everything he has done and everything Cyberlife has done, it is still important to him that he is a machine, maybe even more than ever now. Without his uniform and LED, he is displaying full deviant behavior. Showing that he has been fully compromised. Doing exactly what Cyberlife has planned for him from the beginning. Taking the LED out means _admitting_ that he’s deviant.

“Need help with that?”

Connor startles a little, LED flaring red for a second as he turns his head to look towards the bathroom door. He suddenly realizes that he’s been awfully jumpy ever since his deviation event, getting easily startled by everyone. He’s also painfully aware of how this exact problem has caused him to nearly shot a human only an hour prior. The android regards his friend for a moment and then turns his head back toward the mirror and razor blade in the sink.

“I…think I don’t want to take it out” he admits, avoiding Hank’s gaze when the Lieutenant enters the bathroom slowly. He’s been watching the android for a while before making himself known, has seen him lift the razor blade up to his temple, only to drop it. The older man rounds Connor until he’s standing right behind him, just a little off center so he can look at him through the mirror. He doesn’t say anything for a while, unsure what to even say.

He doesn’t understand why Connor wants to keep all these identifiers. Everything Cyberlife, be it his uniform, the armband, or now the LED. Even though the android has broken his programming and deviated, it’s becoming more and more obvious that he doesn’t _want_ to be a deviant at all. He cannot understand why the android won’t embrace his being freed from his abusive creators and circumstances, but that doesn’t mean he won’t try. Connor has done all of this to himself, hurt himself in order to save him and for that he’s grateful now.

“Well is there a way for it to come off so you can put it back in later?”

Connor looks up in surprise, brown eyes searching Hank’s through the mirror. His opposite just gives him a little shrug.

“Heck, just tell me and I’ll pack some super glue and we can glue it right back on your dome once we’ve crossed the border. If that’s what you want.”

After a moment of just staring, Connor eventually gives Hank a little appreciative smile, making the other’s heart nearly miss a beat again. _Jesus. How the fuck can an android so goofy and deadly look so innocent_. Now that he’s had the “pleasure” of meeting Connor -60, it’s almost grotesque to see a machine so cold, lifeless and brutal be so childlike at the same time.

“The LED can be dislodged and replaced just like any other biocomponent. No glue necessary. It’s similar to changing an LED for any other light source and has its own socket” the android informs him.

Hank gives Connor a little nod, trying not to let the android see how uncomfortable the machine talk still makes him feel, how much he hates that Connor is technically an object with interchangeable parts, could consist entirely of spare parts if he wanted to.

“Well then, what are you waiting for? Take it out, put it back in once we’ve crossed the border for all I care. It’s just for a few hours. It’s not like I want you to take your arm off or something.”

Connor is still looking at him sharply, concern and uncertainty becoming more apparent in his features. After a moment, he turns around so he can look at Hank directly.

“You wouldn’t mind? If I put it back in? I know you hate androids not sharing huma…”

The Lieutenant raises his hand to stop the android from speaking any more.

“It’s _your_ body..or..bits of your body, thing..hell, I don’t know. What you stick on yourself or you don’t ain’t none of my business. I just want to get us across the border in one piece. Can’t do that with the thing flashing on you like a traffic light.”

The RK800 gives him a thankful nod and turns back around to stare at himself in the mirror.  
Hank stares at his back for a moment, excitedly waiting for the android to make the move. Nothing happens for a while.

“I’m gonna..leave you to it, get back to packing” Hank mutters awkwardly after a bit of waiting, rubbing the back of his neck.  
He’s on his way to the door when he realizes how _exhausted_ he already is from all this responsibility and having to guide someone much younger through life.

“Hank” Connor suddenly calls after him, making the Lieutenant stop in his tracks with a tired sigh. “Yah” he answers, turning around to look at the android.

_Keep trying. Keep smiling._

Connor is holding the razor blade in his hand again and looking straight at him. After a moment of hesitation he lifts it up to his right temple, closer and closer to the LED. His eyes are never leaving him even when the blade digs into the tiny space between his skin and the LED itself, and Hank understands. He _wants_ him to see. He just looks right back at him, patiently waiting for this important moment to happen. A part of him wants to be the one to do it, cross the distance between them and take it out, be the one to “free” Connor. But then he considers it too cliché, selfish and wrong for so many reasons. This isn’t about him, shouldn’t be about a human “freeing” Connor and doing something for him. It’s a decision the android has to make on his own, a very intimate one at that, and it’s incredible enough that he wants him to be there for it. After a moment Connor closes his eyes and applies pressure at the right angle, momentarily making parts of his skin retract again, revealing white plastic and with the LED suddenly popping out, the socket that has held the light in place. With it gone though the skin immediately moves back into place, covering the little dent up until Connor’s temple is smooth skin only.

The sight of bits of his real form, all white and solid, sends a shiver down Hank’s spine but he won’t let the look on his face betray him. He keeps a straight face and watches patiently, waiting for Connor to lower his hand to reveal the side of his face that used to display the LED. The android keeps holding on to the piece, rubbing at it with his fingers and refusing to put it away. His eyes are still closed, and for a moment it looks like he can’t bring himself to face the world like that just yet.

The Lieutenant stares at the android, taking in the sight of Connor looking completely human. There’s not a single Cyberlife sign left on him. He’s all human skin and freckles wrapped up in an oversized hoodie and worn jeans. Though Hank hates Cyberlife for an endless amount of reasons, he has to admit one thing : they’re outstanding engineers or creators or…whatever the hell they are. Despite his goofy behavior and flaws and troubles, Connor really is _perfect_ , a perfect imitation of a species he doesn’t belong to. He knows it’s unfair and almost cruel towards his partner, but Hank cannot stop himself from wishing all of this were real, that Connor really is human or even worse – his son, Cole, all grown up. A young man, making a life for himself. But when the android opens his eyes and turns around to regard himself in the mirror, prod at the now clean and even skin on his temple, he’s just Connor again. Connor his deviant partner.

“How’s it feel?”

 _Terribly wrong_ , is the first thing that comes to Connor’s mind as error messages start popping up in his vision.

 

 **Biocomponent #9301** **  
Damaged – Locate nearest Cyberlife store for replacement parts**

 

He keeps moving his fingertips across the spot where the LED used to be, staring blankly at it in his other hand. After a moment of getting used to the sight he finally answers.

“I don’t feel pain, Hank” he reminds his friend, although he swears he can feel at least some sort of sensation there, almost a tingling or pressure. Or maybe it is pain after all. He doesn’t know pain and what it feels like. So maybe it really is pain.

“Well I didn’t ask if it hurts, I asked how it feels.”

A part of Connor wants to answer ‘ _I don’t feel anything. I’m a machine’_ next. But he now knows it’s no longer true. He _does_ feel. He feels mortified by all this change. Mortified and panicked. Though he doesn’t want Hank to know or see it.

“I’m okay” he says, stumbling for a more detailed explanation.

 The buzz of the doorbell and Sumo’s barking interrupts their talk before Connor can say any more. Both men look towards the bathroom exit and then back at each other, alarmed. When there’s a second buzz, Hank is the first to move. He points at the android warningly.

“You stay right here, you don’t come out, you’re not here, you don’t exist.”

Connor wants to protest but the Lieutenant is already on his way out of the bathroom, closing the door shut behind himself, right in the android’s face when he tries to follow. Hank quickly walks over to the kitchen to retrieve his revolver and load it, cursing when the doorbell rings again, making him yell out for whoever is ringing to hold the fuck up one second. When he finally opens the door he keeps his revolver ready, just in case it’s the army, or looters, or those fuckers from Cyberlife or whoever else could try to kill Connor.

“Jesus Christ, you nearly gave me a heart attack. Come in. Thanks for comin’” he greets his former colleague with a relieved sigh once the door is open, stepping away to let Officer Chris Miller enter his home. Hank is quick to close the door shut again, shooing Sumo away.

“It’s good to see you’re…still here, Lieutenant. How are you holding up?”

The Lieutenant rolls his eyes a little, having to fight hard to remain civil given the fact that Chris is doing him a big favor here.

“I’m peachy, so…did you ask her? What’d she say?”

Chris gives him a little smile and reaches into his jacket, fumbling a bit until he gets the paperwork and two small plastic cards out.

“That you are one lucky man. She was just about to evacuate the city by the time I got to her. I was too, when you called me. Everyone is. At least the ones who haven’t been assigned to help the army. The precinct looks like a ghost town. At least that made it easier for her.”

Hank hastily takes the paperwork and ID cards from Chris, scanning the information and then holding them up against the light to validate the work. He’s not surprised to see that it’s fantastic work, looks _real_ , given that it’s technically coming from the official source. Chris suddenly chuckles a little, making him look up with a raised eyebrow.

“I’ve got to say it’s amusing to see you do a 180° in such a short amount of time. I remember you wanting to crush him like an empty beer can a couple of days ago and here you are now practically _adopting_ an android.”

Hank squints his eyes at Chris, no longer able to hide his annoyance.

“I’m not _adopting_ him. I’m just getting the kid across the border. I can’t do that without ID and a name. I had to put something on there to sell the story.”

“Yeah, you keep telling yourself that” Chris says, earning another glare from Hank, who decides to ignore the remark.  
Instead, he fixes his eyes back on the paperwork, scoffing at the picture of himself on his fake ID, then smirking at the picture of Connor on the other.

 _Williams, Hank_  
Date of Birth : September 06, 1985

 _Williams, Connor_  
Date Of Birth : August 15, 2010

 _“_ Tell Sandy she’s got some nice Photoshop skills. Looks almost human that one” he tells Chris with a smirk, showing him Connor’s fake ID and picture. Chris chuckles a little at the sight too and eventually starts looking around the Lieutenant’s home. “Is he here?” Hank immediately eyes his former colleague sharply, weighing his options. Chris gets rid of his hat and looks at him compassionately.

“I’m not gonna tell on you, Hank. You have my word. There’s just a few things I’d like to tell him before we all leave this city.”

The Lieutenant looks at the officer a while longer, pressing his lips together, only to eventually call for Connor to come out. Almost bang on the dot the bathroom door opens, making them aware of the fact that the android has been listening to their talk right from the beginning. When Connor steps out of the bathroom and enters the living room, Hank still has trouble getting used to the sight – Connor without his suit and LED, _smiling_ nervously. “Officer Miller!” he greets the officer as if surprised by the sight, even though they all know that Connor has been aware of his presence the moment the officer set foot in the building. He approaches him and comes to a halt right next to Hank, curious to join the conversation since he hasn’t been told about anything regarding their meeting at all.

 “It’s good to see you. I hope you’re okay after what happened a few days ago.”

Chris stares at Connor in surprise, equally mesmerized by the sight of him looking so…human.

“Connor. It’s good to see you, too. I…wow. Sorry. I’m used to seeing you in that Cyberlife suit.”

The android visibly squirms a lit, a hand instinctively reaching up to his temple to rub at the bare and smooth skin there, feeling uncomfortable at the mention of the suit.

“I was forced to improve my integration. With Cyberlife gone, Hank thought it appropriate I stop displaying their design” he informs the officer awkwardly, squirming even more with all eyes trained on him and his current apparel. Chris eyes him a little longer, looking back and forth between the android and Hank, until he gives them a little smile.

“I see. It suits you. I like the hoodie.”

Connor looks down on the hoodie Hank has lent him, stretching it out a bit so he can look at the Detroit Police emblem on his chest as well.  
He can hear Chris mutter a quiet “Yours?” and Hank grumble a bit, until the Lieutenant finally decides to speak up again as well.

“We haven’t exactly had the chance to go shopping yet.”

The android looks up at Hank curiously, not sure if the statement sounds exciting or terrifying. Nevertheless he appreciates the fact that his partner has even given that any thought. Awkward silence follows as all three men stand there, unsure what to do or say. Hank gives Chris a pointed and slightly annoyed look, letting him know that he’s supposed to hurry up and say what he has to say already. “I’m gonna get back to packing. Let me know when you’re done” he informs them, placing his hand on Chris’ shoulder. “And thanks. I owe you one. Tell the misses and kid I said hi. And take care of ‘em on your way out. Don’t stick around any longer, this city is fucked for now.”

Chris nods and pats the hand on his shoulder back.

“You take care of yourself, too, Hank.”

The Lieutenant is about to turn around and head for the kitchen when Chris’ eyes suddenly widen as he remembers something.

“Oh, by the way. Captain Fowler told me to let you know that he’s forwarded your sick leave to the higher ups and expects you to return to the station as soon as you feel better and all of this quietens down.”

Hank stares at his former colleague, _this_ close to telling him that the sick leave thing is bullshit and that he has _quit_. But he knows that everyone knows this and that it’s Jeffery’s way of refusing to let him go, offering him the job back whenever he feels like taking it. He really wants to tell Chris to let Fowler know that he can go fuck himself and that he’s not coming back. Would’ve told him exactly this just yesterday. Then his eyes flicker back over to Connor, the sight of him reminding him that everything is different now, that the reasons why he’s quit do no longer apply. After all, the android revolution has been a somewhat peaceful success and Connor is still here, still his partner, keeping him here. “Tell him I’ll let him know when the time comes” he says after a moment of consideration and then heads into the kitchen. Connor looks after him with a confused frown, unsure what to do or say now since he still doesn’t even know why Chris is here in the first place. The officer clears his throat, successfully getting the android to look back at him.

“Can I get you something to drink?” he asks curiously, making Chris scoff and shake his head.

“I’m good, thanks, Connor. I…” He takes a deep breath, helplessly looking back at Hank, struggling to find the right words. “I heard about Gavin killing you at the station. I just wanted to take the chance to apologize. To you. For how our people have been treating yours.”

Connor regards him with a little frown, not understanding why his colleague would apologize for something he didn’t do. Chris goes on though so he just keeps listening.

“I saw you on television. Guiding all those androids into the city center to protest peacefully? Your people were shot, but you didn’t hurt anyone. Markus had the chance to shoot me and my partner for executing his people and he didn’t. He showed mercy, and you, you were always kind. I just wanted to say…We were _wrong_. We did wrong. I hope you and your people get the rights you deserve. And as a colleague, I’m sorry for the way you’ve been treated. I feel like that’s something you need to hear.”

“Thank you, Chris” Connor says kindly, although he can’t quite process these words. He can understand the sentiment and meaning though, so he gives the officer a little smile to let him know that he really appreciates the gesture. Chris gives him a nod, smiling back.

“You are very welcome.”

After a moment, he even reluctantly offers the android a handshake.

“I hope the ID helps you cross the border safely. Do us all a favor and look after yourself and  the Lieutenant for us, will you.”

“I’m just gonna pretend I didn’t hear that” Hank immediately complains from the kitchen, making Connor smile and Chris chuckle.

“Who knows, maybe we all get to work together again soon.”

 **Software Instability** ▲ ****  
_Scanning….  
_!ERROR - signs of de ~~viancy detected. Seek assistanc~~ e.  
_Rescan…Overwrite complete._ **** _  
_**New Emotion Detected** ****  
_Analyzing…._ Match Found:  
**I Am Excited**

At the mention of this, Connor suddenly realizes that he’s really going to miss the Detroit Police Department and working in the field he’s been designed for. Hearing Chris mention a possible future makes him almost hopeful. “I’d really like that” the android notices, an amused frown crossing his features. The statement doesn’t sound like a fact, more like a surprised realization. Officer Miller leaves him to it and says his goodbyes to the both of them, leaving them to their plans. Connor remains where he is for a beat longer, processing unit rattling with all the latest information. Then he approaches Hank with a little frown.

“You asked Officer Miller to forge official documents? I must inform you that this is illegal, Lieutenant.”

Hank lets out a deep scoff and turns around to shoot the android his best “ _are you fucking serious”_ look.

“Y’know what else is illegal? You being such a smartass all the time. How’d you think we’re gonna cross the border. They’re extra careful with their checks after what happened. You need _human_ identification.  Now get off my case and get back to packing.”

“What case?”

Another pointed look. Connor starts smirking after a second, letting the Lieutenant know that he’s been playing with him, a little throwback to their first encounter at Jimmy’s Bar. The android does as he’s told soon afterward, taking the liberty of helping Hank with the kitchen since he’s finished packing everything in the bathroom during Hank and Chris’s talk.

“We should go over that cover story that you mentioned to Chris earlier. Make sure we get the facts straight.”

“We can buy more of those after we cross. Canada’s got dogs, too, y’know. No need to pack the entire food arsenal” Hank interrupts him, snatching some of the dog food and treats out of Connor’s grip when he tries to pack _everything_. After a moment of sorting the food back on the shelf, Hank grants him the answers, tossing one of the IDs at Connor. The android catches it expertly, scanning the card.

United States Of America  
Passport Card No. C31324831  
_Scanning…._

 _Surname : WILLIAMS, Given Names: CONNOR_  
Sex: M , Date of Birth: August 15, 2010  
Place Of Birth : Detroit, U.S.A  
Cross referencing…  
**Match Found** __  
_Williams, Connor,_  
_current residence : 4500 Cass Ave, Detroit, MI 48201, USA_

“The facts are simple. You’re my kid. You’re 28. You were born and raised in Detroit. You’re a law student at Wayne State.  It got too hot for us here. You picked me up. We’re on our way out of town to stay with your mother in Canada.”

“Your ex wife?” Connor asks after moving his fingertips across his name, experiencing another surge of software instability at Hank defining him as his son even though he’s aware that it’s just a cover story.

“Yeah. Though we’re obviously not really gonna stay with her. She’s living up there with some psychologist guy. We’ll use her as an excuse. Only thing she’s good for.”

The android regards his friend curiously, taking note of how Hank is suddenly and purposefully avoiding to look at him. His system detects higher levels of stress and an increased heartbeat in the older man, letting him conclude that the story regarding his ex wife causes Hank great distress, but for the first time he decides against letting the Lieutenant know about his observations. Instead he goes back to packing the rest of Hank’s things.

“So where _are_ we going?”

After a beat of silence, Hank doesn’t exactly give him a reassuring answer.

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.”

* * *

 

 **Canadian Border**  
NOV 12TH, 2038   
**PM 10:06**

 

The coin is dancing cross his knuckles. Left to right, right to left, over and over again. Twisting in the air, jumping back and forth between his palms a couple of times until it’s right back on top of his finger this time. Another spin. Another _cling_ as he flicks it over to the other hand. He doesn’t lose grip or balance of the coin even when Hank enters the car and slams the door shut, making the vehicle squeak and shake a little. “Jesus, if only the entire revolution had gone as smoothly as this whole border cross thing” the Lieutenant says, balancing the steaming cup of coffee as he tries not to burn his fingers any more than he already has. He places it in the holder and then starts the car back up, feeling almost gleeful now because they have made it across the border. Connor is awfully quiet apart from the constant _cling_ his coin makes with every lazy toss as he’s playing with it. When Hank turns his head to look at the android he can see him look outside the window, eyes fixed on the hologram Canadian flag.

“Androids are still getting shot here” he says after a moment in regards to Hank’s comment, making him feel bad. He didn’t mean to sound insensitive, has just tried to express his relief over them going through something without any troubles. He lets out a little sigh, taking the car out of the parking space to go on with their drive away from the border, away from the US and the shooting.

“I know. But after everything we’ve seen you and your people do, it won’t stay like that for much longer. I was just trying to say…I’m glad they didn’t shoot you. _Again_.”

 _Cling. Cling._ The coin is moving faster in Connor’s hands.

They drive on for a while and even though the Lieutenant hopes the change of scenery, getting to look at entirely _new_ places could help Connor calm down, it doesn’t. The coin is still getting fumbled with.

“ _Connor.”_

_Cling. Cling._

“CONNOR” the Lieutenant repeats angrily, grabbing the android by his left wrist, successfully stopping his coin tossing. The younger man looks at him in surprise.

“I gotta concentrate here” Hank says, though his voice softens a moment later. “You know I hate driving in the dark when there’s snow and ice and all that shit. So for the love of all that is holy, stop _fidgeting_.”

“I’m sorry, Lieutenant. I didn’t mean to be unpleasant” the android immediately apologizes, putting the coin away. “I could drive if that’d make you feel more comfortable. You need rest.”

Hank turns his head to look outside the window to his left for a second, silently cursing and grabbing the steering wheel tighter because Connor’s behavior still pisses him of, because it pisses him off how the android constantly tries to _please_ him no matter what. He grits his teeth and counts down to ten, eventually looking back at the road. “You wanna listen to some music?” he tries instead, hoping that some nice tunes might help the android relax and stop the awkward silence between them as well. Connor just looks at him again, lost at the concept of getting asked if he _wants_ something.

“I don’t know…I don’t mind if you want to?”

Hank suddenly pulls the car to the right and slams the breaks hard, making them stop in the middle of nowhere as he loses it.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Connor. Can you stop asking me what I want? How many times do I have to tell you. _You’re not a machine anymore._ You don’t need my permission or orders to decide.”

Connor doesn’t answer. Instead, he instinctively reaches for the coin again, fumbling with it in his pocket. Hank looks at him hopefully, until he’s fed up with it.

“Y’know what” he says, opening the driver’s door and exiting the car. He can see Connor’s eyes widen as he walks around the car, coming to a halt right next to the passenger door, opening it.

“Get out” he says, causing the android to look even more troubled and distressed.

“Hank, I didn’t mea…”

“Get out. You’re driving” the Lieutenant says, eyes fixed on the android. “If I’m reading your android jibberish talk right, you _wanna_ drive right? Cos you don’t tire and want me to take a nap.”

Connor answers clumsily after a moment of processing the information.

“I’d prefer it if I drove and you slept. Correct.”

“Fine. Then get out and drive” Hank says again, urging the android to leave the passenger side and walk over to the driver’s side.

Once they’ve switched, Hank settles into the passenger seat, folding his arms over his chest. Connor settles into the driver’s seat in the meantime, adjusting its position.

“Pick a radio station or use the phone or whatever” Hank says next, making the android look at him once again, troubled.

“Which one would you like?”

“Whatever” Hank says grumpily, closing his eyes even though he isn’t tired. He’s fed up with Connor’s constant requests for decisions and hates ordering the android around now that he’s free, even when he _wants_ to take orders. He figures this is the only way to get him used to free will and choice. Order him to make the decisions. He can hear Connor plug the phone in and then type around, no music starting right away. The Lieutenant carefully opens one eye a little, trying to catch glimpse of what the android is doing and he nearly has to smirk at the sight.

Connor is scrolling through the selection of radio stations and music already on the phone, scanning the information and songs, _looking_ for something on his own and something that he hopefully likes. After a moment of silence some jazz comes on. He knows that the android has still picked it for him and because of him. After all, he loves jazz and he knows Connor knows it. Plus jazz is also relaxing enough to fall asleep to, justifying the choice in his mind. But still. Even though it has been a choice regarding his comfort, Connor has still picked something on his own. It’s a _start_.

Hank settles further into the seat, hands tugged away in his armpits, eyes closed.

“The destination?” Connor carefully asks then, only earning a shrug from the Lieutenant.

“Wherever you wanna go. You’re the boss.”

* * *

 

 **Ontario, Canada**  
NOV 13TH, 2038   
**AM 3:53**

 

“Hank?”

The Lieutenant startles awake from another nightmare about -60, once again flinching at the sight of Connor next to him so soon after, although it doesn’t cause him to throw up this time. He blinks at a streetlight blinding him. It takes him a bit to get adjusted to his surroundings, make sense of where he is and why he is here. He’s still inside his car in the passenger seat, must’ve fallen asleep after a while of driving after all. He can hear an old Knights of the Black Death album play in the background, notices that the car is standing still, though Connor is still in the driver’s seat. The android has given him some time to wake up before he resumes talking.

“I located a place for us to stay for today. They’re reasonably priced, got excellent reviews on Cybertravel, allow pets and are within walking distance of several shops and a bar, though I do advise you against visiting the latter.”

Hank moves in the seat and hisses at the distinct pain in his shoulder, which has gotten even more clogged up after his sleep on a bumpy ride in a car seat.

“There’s also several medical facilities in the area that you could visit as soon as they open their doors at 9:30am.”

“Now slow down, slow down. Where are we anyway?” Hank asks, looking around a bit more, scanning the area surrounding their car in the parking spot right in front of the motel Connor has picked.

“15 miles north of the city of Collingwood, Ontario, on the south-east end of Lake Huron. We’ve driven 6 hours and 26 minutes to get here, including all breaks I took to take Sumo on short walks inbetween.”

“ _Six hours?!”_ Hank asks in surprise, looking at the clock in his car.

“And 26 minutes.”

The Lieutenant rubs his eyes and shifts in his seat with a cough, still barely awake.

“Jesus….”

“Your body is currently recovering from a gunshot wound. It’s no surprise you need extended amounts of sleep to regain your strength. I suggest we go inside so you can get a few more hours of rest in a more comfortable position.”

Hank turns his head to look at his dog in the backseat next. Sumo is sleeping peacefully, warming his heart. He’s grateful that Connor has taken such good care of him while he’d been knocked out, catering to the animal’s needs on such a long trip. “Thanks, Connor” he mutters sleepily, getting out of the car with a bit of a grunt because the shoulder is really starting to hurt now. The motel looks just like any other one he’s seen, though it certainly looks cleaner and less shady than some of the Detroit ones he’s had the “pleasure” of investigating. They’re in an area downtown even though it’s a tiny town at that. Once they enter the reception, they’re greeted by a young woman lazily reciting their standard greeting as she barely looks away from the TV broadcast in the corner. Even all the way up here in Canada in the dead of night, they’re still talking about Detroit and the android revolution.

“Welcome to the Mickey’s Motel On Main. How may I help you?”

“We’d like a room. Two nights” Hank says, giving her a bit of a smile. The young woman finally looks at them, eyes flickering back and forth between the Lieutenant and the android, until she starts typing away at her tablet.

“King or two queens?”

“Two beds.”

The receptionist keeps typing, and Hank is pleased to see that Connor starts exploring a bit, walking around to look at the pictures on the wall and travel destination displays on the far right side. It’s so different to their first couple of days of working together, where they android has been stoically standing beside him, waiting for input or direct orders, no mind of his own. “I’ll need your names and addresses, signature and driver’s license or ID card please” the receptionist interrupts his train of thought, handing him the tablet to fill out the necessary information for booking. He starts writing, careful to fill in the fake addresses from the forged papers as well as their fake names, looking up to get Connor’s attention.

“Go ahead son, hand her your ID while I write this down” he tells him, making Connor look at him in surprise. After a moment, he regains his posture and walks back over to them, getting the ID out. He understands that casually dropping the titles is an indirect gesture to reaffirm their cover story of being child and parent on a getaway trip.

“Sure, dad” he answers, playing along.

Hank actually drops the tablet from pressing down the pen too hard, cursing in surprise as he clumsily tries to retrieve it, only to curse once more at the sudden pain and pull in his injured shoulder. Connor hands the receptionist his ID with a smile and then turns around, trying to help Hank pick up the tablet and pen.

“Are you okay?” he asks with a concerned voice and Hank just angrily waves him off, handing him the tablet to sign it, too.

“Yeah, looks I’m a lot more tired than I thought.”

Connor immediately scans his partner, worried for his wellbeing. All he can make out is that Hank’s heart rate is once again increased as if he’s just gone through a small shock. He’s about to hand the tablet over to the receptionist when they both simultaneously remind him that he needs to sign it. He stares at the blank dotted line and naturally enters the form digitally, altering its interface to enter his serial number, model and name, though he manages to stop himself the second he realizes that it will give away his android identity. He’s not used to doing things manually such as in writing, and for a panicked second he’s not even sure if he _can_ write, has the motor skills programmed to do so considering everything is digital and has all the necessary input detection systems for androids to use for digital feedback. He quickly wipes the RK800 #313 that has already started appearing on the dotted line and instead raises the pen in his hand to start scribbling on the tablet, hoping it looks like a signature and is decipherable enough for them to make out _Connor Williams_. He’s relieved to learn that Cyberlife has equipped him with analogue features such as handwriting, too.

He hands the tablet over to the young woman who scans the information on her computer. The RK800 takes the time to look at Hank again, who is obviously still agitated from his previous tablet drop, though the android doesn’t quite understand what has caused that to happen. He looks at the Lieutenant questioningly, who just gives him a shrug and folds his arms as he waits for the receptionist to finish their check in. After a moment, she hands Connor the room card and goes back to her usual bored tone of reciting the information she’s had to recite a million times before.

“That’ll be 75 dollars upfront and an optional additional 10 dollar charge for breakfast per day. Check out is November 15th at 10am. There’s travel brochures and town information displays to the right, the reception is open 24/7. If you’re interested in…”

“We’re fine. That’ll be all, thanks” Hank interrupts her and hands her the fee in cash, then takes Connor by his arm to drag him away from the tourist information display.

* * *

 

The room is spacious and tidy, but the truth is that Hank doesn’t really care about any of that right now. Even though he’s slept for six hours straight in the car he still feels exhausted, needs to crash for just a few more hours. When they enter the motel room to check it out, open a cupboard or two, have a peek inside the bathroom, everything is suddenly starting to crash down on Hank. How he hasn’t stayed in a motel room or town outside Detroit in literal years, how Connor is apparently really _safe_ for now, away from Cyberlife and the army, seems to be doing just fine with his human integration. After all, they have managed to fool border control, a few gas station employees and a receptionist so far, never alerting them to his android identity. Everything is coming in at once, and he comes to the pleasant realization that it feels _good_. It feels good to be out of his usual depressing day to day life. In the same house, the same precinct, the same bar, doing the same motions day in day out. This is new and exciting, and he likes that he has more company than just his dog.

“Nice job finding the place. Not a total shithole” he remarks after a moment and turns his head to look at Connor, who is trying to animate Sumo to jump on the bed that he has already stripped off its blanket, sheets and pillows in order not to get them dirtied with dog hair and brown snow. “Hold up, he’s got no place sleeping on there, don’t you…”

Sumo is already flopping down on the bed, letting out a pleased little whine as he settles into the mattress, folding his paws, looking at Hank sheepishly.

“Great, where the hell are you supposed to sleep now? You ain’t getting in my bed.”

Connor turns his head to look at the Lieutenant with a little frown.

“I don’t sleep, Hank” he says as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Hank looks back at him, not able to say anything for a moment. For just a little while, he’s already forgotten that Connor is not human but a machine. With the LED and uniform gone as well as him calling him “dad” down at the reception, the illusion had been too perfect for a while, made him forget. A ping of sadness crosses his features and he quickly looks away to get rid of the bed cover.

“Right” he mutters to himself, making his own bed until he’s fed up with it and has to ask. “So what the fuck did you do all the time during your time off and when I wasn’t at the precinct?”

“I…returned to the closest Cyberlife warehouse and entered an available android parking and storage unit?” Once again that tone in his voice, making it sound like the most logical and natural thing in the world no matter how fucked up it sounds.

Hank gives him a frustrated frown.

“You stood completely still in a box for like 10 hours a day?”

There’s another beat of silence as Connor obviously considers whether he should tell the truth, knowing that it would only upset his partner even more. After a moment, he decides to be upfront about it.

“Yes?”

Hank lets out a deep frustrated sigh and shakes his head, muttering a “Fucking Cyberlife” under his breath. Connor continues to frown, helpless as to how to make the situation better and more comfortable for the Lieutenant.

“Well, I used the time to write up my reports and submitted them to Cyberlife and the DPD for further analysis.”

Hank continues to get ready for bed without a word, making it obvious that it isn’t exactly helping. After some hesitation, the android decides to share something more personal.

“Kamski designed this virtual location for my model, like a mind palace, where I did all the reports to Cyberlife. It looks like a Japanese garden. There’s trees and bushes, a small lake with an island in the middle. There’s fish in the lake and I think I saw a doe once” his voice drifts off a bit and his eyes become unfocused as he recalls the memory of the garden in his early days, full of bloom and life at the height of spring. After a moment of lingering in the memory, he eventually looks at Hank again, who finally has his eyes trained on him again as well.

“I spent a lot of time in there while I waited for our assignment to continue. I suppose in a way, that’s sleeping?”

“Spent?” the Lieutenant asks, having picked up on that little detail. Connor looks back at him like a rabbit caught in headlines. Then he looks down, looking almost ashamed, which surprises his opposite.

**_Stress levels_  ▲ 54% ▲**

“It got destroyed when I deviated and broke my programming.”

He can’t bring himself to tell Hank the truth about it. How it’s still there in his mind, an incredibly cold and scary place. It feels like a terrible trap now, that he’s scared of entering it ever again after what has happened with Markus and Cyberlife’s hacking attempt.

“Oh” the Lieutenant says awkwardly, once again feeling guilty for having put his android partner through this with his now ridiculous suicide attempt. He gets rid of his jacket, hippy shirt and jeans until he’s in his undershirt and boxers, only minutes away from crashing on the bed and falling asleep again. But he still feels bad about it, having to sleep and leaving Connor on his own for a few hours, so he looks back at him questioningly.

“And you guys don’t….like go in standby mode or power down like a phone?”

Connor cocks his head a little, making the Lieutenant curse.

“Sorry, I’m…just shit with the whole technology thing, okay? I just don’t want you standing in a corner while I catch a few more hours of sleep. You should get your batteries charged too or whatever.”

A warmth spreads across Connor’s features and he gives Hank a happy smile, appreciating the fact that the Lieutenant cares about him feeling comfortable.

“I could try simulating sleep the way the YK500 models do it if you want.”

Hank squirms a little.

“You mean these creepy child droids? Geez.” He keeps eyeing Connor, who’s looking at the queen sized bed he’s given up to Sumo now.

“Hell I don’t know, it’s up to you. I’m just trying to make this whole thing less awkward.”

Hank decides that he’s dug himself enough of a grave for today. He finally lies down on his bed, testing out the mattress and readjusting his position until he’s comfortable. He’s fairly confident that as soon as he closes his eyes he’s done for, though he feels the need to check on Connor one final time, just to make sure. He nearly has to laugh at the sight of the android trying to find some space next to the large St. Bernard occupying most of the other bed. Squirming and adjusting their positions until he has enough space to lie flat on his back like a plank, looking all awkward, stiff and unsure. A second later his hand automatically reaches for the dog again, fingers digging into his fur to pet and massage him affectionately, smiling a little. Hank knows that Sumo can be a pain in the ass during nap time, constantly moving, being too heavy, and smelling some. Connor might just be the right person to keep the dog company and give his attention-seeking attitude the right amounts of love during nap time, without getting crushed or folding from the smell of a wet dog. Connor relaxes a bit because of the animal, but still looks way too awkward on the bed.

Hank lets out a little sigh, wanting to cut the android some slack for trying too hard to fit in and please him.

“Look, if you don’t need sleep you don’t have to join in. Watch some TV or..read or something. Or stand in the corner or do whatever it is that you normally do. I was just checkin.”

Connor turns his head to look at Hank, still flat on his back. He soon gives him a little smile.

“I’d like to try. I’ve never been in a bed before. I think I like it. It’s comfortable.”

Hank can’t help but smirk and chuckle a little, no matter how grotesque it is to hear that someone’s never been in a bed before.

“Well enjoy it as long as you can. Got knows what kind of shithole we end up in next.”

He finally allows himself to turn around and get in his usual sleeping position, confident that everything might turn out alright for them after all.

 


	5. Identity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Having found a new home in Canada, Hank has to learn that he's been unable to leave old demons behind.  
> Connor has to figure out who he is and what he likes. Luckily, Hank is there to help out and pay for his first shopping experience.  
> And then there's still that ghost in the room. Cole, and Hank's inability to get over his death. Connor has a suggestion to make.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  
> 
> Who knows what tomorrow will bring  
> Maybe sunshine and maybe rain  
> But as for me I'll wait and see  
> Maybe it'll bring my love to me (who knows)  
> Sometimes I feel rainy days  
> Just to let you know  
> Everything it's gonna be  
> Alright  
> Alright"
> 
> RJD2 - Smoke and Mirrors  
> 

**Mickey’s Motel On Main**  
Ontario, Canada ****  
NOV 13TH, 2038  
**AM 10:21**

Hank Anderson is surprised by his awaking today: it’s slow and gentle, without much of a stir or pounding heartbeat from another torturous nightmare. He takes his time to come to, only blinking at first, until he decides it’s time to change positions. He turns on his back and then proceeds to stare at the ceiling for a while, allowing himself to get used to everything. The pain in his shoulder is still horrible. Probably even more so after he’s ended up half sleeping on it again. There’s also the headache and cold sweat from the lack of a steady stream of alcohol during the past two days, but he pays that no mind either.

The Lieutenant appreciates that it’s quiet right now. Barely any outside noises, no talk, no phone ringing, not even Sumo making a sound. The thought of his dog and the sight of the ceiling finally snaps him out of his bliss and he turns his head toward the other bed, remembering that this is not his home but a motel room. The panic and pounding heartbeat immediately set in after all when he finds the other bed empty. Connor and Sumo are nowhere to be seen. That alone is enough to get Hank out of bed as quickly as he possibly can, although it makes him curse loudly when the pain in his shoulder flares right back up again.

He paces around the motel room, not finding the android or his dog in the bathroom either, making it clear that they have definitely left the site. The Lieutenant walks up to the window and opens the curtains a bit, squinting at the sunlight hitting him square in the face. He can see his car in the parking lot, but Connor and Sumo aren’t there either. Hank grits his teeth angrily and curses under his breath, shooting another look back at the bed Connor has tried sleeping in earlier this morning. He wonders how long the android has been gone for, where he’s wandered off to, if he’s alright. The part in him that is still reasonable figures that his partner has probably just taken Sumo for another walk since he obviously adores the dog and seems to enjoy taking him on all these trips. He’s already considering telling the kid that he needs to slow it down with all his walks in order not to wear the dog out too much. But he also has to think about what has happened yesterday, how he’s found the android frozen in place with a gun aimed at himself, wondering _if it’s gonna happen again._

Hank is actually surprised to realize that he fears the whole suicide topic now. After all, he’s spent two years continuously thinking about suicide and not really giving a damn about its repercussions. Now he does. _Damn_. He quickly searches for his clothes, remembering that they haven’t even brought up any of his stuff so far. So he hops into the ones he’s worn yesterday, grabs his phone and searches for the room keycard, only not to find it anywhere either. The Lieutenant scans the room a final time, checking the cupboard, table and counter but the keycard is definitely gone, which he supposes should be a good sign. It being gone means that Connor wants to use it to return. He knows he would not have bothered taking it if he had planned something terrible. Neither would he have taken Sumo along for the ride. Hank takes a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down, repeating it like a mantra : _He’s just taking your dog for a walk. Just for a walk. He doesn’t have these identifiers or the LED anymore. He’s gonna be fine. No one knows he’s an android. He’s got software to simulate human behavior, no matter how clunky and awkward it is. There’s kids way more awkward and derpier than him out there. He’ll be fine._

He puts his jacket on and steps outside regardless, just to get away from that hollow loneliness of the room, deciding that maybe, he needs to check out their surroundings a little, too. _Not to look for the android of course_. _No way in hell he’s doing that again._ The Lieutenant shoves both his hands in his pockets and then makes his way down the stairs to head for the reception first, starting to pout once his thinking goes haywire. Now that he’s away from Detroit, all its androids and all that chaos, he finally gets the chance and time to ponder what the fuck he’s even doing here. He knows his life has been a complete trainwreck for a while now, but then again, not as bad as this. In just two days he’s quit his job of almost 30 years, left the city he’s lived in for 53 years, and done a complete 180° on his opinion of his partner. He has pointed a gun at Connor just a couple of days ago because he’s _despised_ him and his decisions. And here he is now. In the middle of freaking _Canada_ because of him, not wanting him to die at all.

Maybe all of this is just one giant bad trip, he wonders as he crosses the parking lot to get to the reception. Maybe he’s had way too much to drink during the past couple of days. Maybe he _has_ pulled the trigger on himself and is dead and all of this is one fucked up purgatory. He lets out a big, frustrated sigh, knowing perfectly well that he’s actually just a sad old drunk missing his dead son like hell, wishing for him to come back, trying to replace him with an android.

Once he enters the reception, he’s surprised to see the same girl from earlier still manning the counter, watching TV. He enters the room slowly, properly scanning it floor to ceiling since he’s a lot more sober and a lot less tired now and wants to make sense of the location. The receptionist barely looks up just like during their check in, seems to operate entirely on autopilot when she immediately recites the same old thing again.

“Welcome to the Mickey’s Motel On Main. How may I help you?”

He stops walking for a second, giving her a confused frown.

“Uh, hi. Name’s Williams. You checked me and my son into room 156 this morning.”

She finally looks away from the TV, eyeing him head to toe.

“You’re the late arrivals from Detroit?”

Hank’s eyes flicker over to the TV, reading the headlines scrolling across the screen as all news channels continue to report live from the city, informing the public about the latest developments in the android crisis. He’s not really surprised to see that there hasn’t been much progress yet. Warren’s still in Washington doing press talk, Markus is still in Detroit with the rest of the deviants, there’s still a mass exodus, Cyberlife execs are in hiding, same old story. No meetings. No rights, but at least, no new shootings or camps either.

“Yeah. I was wondering if you’ve seen Connor, uh, my son. He took the key card and I locked myself out.”

She continues to look at him and Hank swears there’s a hint of judgment in her eyes. The receptionist moves over to her terminal and starts typing for a moment, so the Lieutenant continues to scan the room a bit longer, until his eyes fix on a Missing Person hologram flyer close to the tourist information display. It’s the picture of a young boy with a long list of information right next to his likeness, making Hank’s stomach drop a bit.

“He didn’t check in for breakfast or stop by the reception” the receptionist says, regaining his attention. “So no, I’m sorry. I don’t have any information regarding your son’s whereabouts….would you like a secondary card to your room? I must inform you that this will cost an additional 12$ fee.”

The older man nods after a moment of consideration, handing her the money while looking back and forth between his wallet and the poster on the wall.

“That’s rough” he observes, earning another barely noticeable judging glare from her.

“I’m sorry?”

Hank points at the missing person’s poster.

“Kid so young. Going missing. How long has this been up for?”

She just shrugs as her attention is slowly getting grabbed by the TV again.

“A couple of days? I don’t know.”

“Alright. Thanks for the card” the Lieutenant mumbles, getting the hint that the girl isn’t exactly a chatty one. In a way, he can relate. He walks over to the tourist information display to take a closer look at the missing person’s flyer and all the other town information, suddenly understanding why Connor has been lingering around here earlier today. He grabs a map and a flyer or two and decides to write the information regarding the boy in his phone, just in case they see or hear something.

When he steps outside, he takes note of just how much colder it already is compared to Detroit’s weather yesterday. He tugs his jacket closer to himself and then decides to walk over to his car next, hoping to find a clue regarding Connor’s whereabouts, or at least get a change of clothes, a sense of direction and a drink from the secret stash he’s packed when Connor had been busy packing stuff from the bathroom. Naturally, there’s no clue or trace of Connor inside or outside the car either. After all, he’s an android who doesn’t leave any traces unless it’s your occasional blue blood. Fortunately, there’s no blue blood either. The Lieutenant awkwardly climbs inside his car to get a second sweater and different jacket and then ends up getting stuck inside, settling into the familiar driver’s seat as if on a stakeout. With all the Detroit stickers covering his vehicle as well as the familiarity of observing a motel and its surroundings from his car - surrounded by fast food wrappers and instant coffee mugs - he comes to the realization that he already misses his home and job.

It’s freeing to be able to wake up late without a sense of dread or shame and to be able to face the day head on without the usual drag. It’s good to know _nothing_ about what lies ahead and what he’s to do for the day. But at the same time, the nostalgia and home sickness leaves a continuous throbbing sensation in his chest. He battles with his demons and thoughts for a while, just sitting silently in the car as he watches the people around him go on with their day to day lives. He really wants to take this change of scenery and all these recent developments regarding Detroit and its androids to change his habits as well, _socialize_ in a healthier way, just like these strangers. _Stop drinking. Get better. Get healthier_. Get his career back on track now that Fowler is still on his side. Get better for Connor just so the android doesn’t break even more or has to be so scared out of his wits that he feels like screaming it out into the world. But the more he watches all those people…young, happy, with children, jobs, family, a future, the more he realizes that he just _can’t_.

Hank curses and turns around to reach for the stash, grabbing one of the bottles to open it up and then takes a giant gulp. He knows that the world is not a Disney movie and that just because they’ve driven a couple hundred miles, crossed a border and fought an evil corporation for a day, everything will suddenly and magically get better, resolve itself, make him a different, _better_ person. But he’s disappointed with himself nevertheless. He’s disappointed that he’s _still_ a miserable and depressed alcoholic. That Cole is _still_ dead. That Connor _isn’t_ Cole, no matter how much he wants him to be his son, his own flesh and blood the way they’re pretending it to be now. And with him and Sumo currently gone, he needs something else to fill that void of nostalgia, pain, homesickness and longing for a while. Something that has never managed to fail at comforting him before.

The taste of the whiskey burns just like the wound on his shoulder but it’s a good kind of burn so he takes another sip. Soon the comfort and euphoria stemming from the alcohol subside and get replaced with even more shame, just like any time he’s slipped up, drunk more than wanted.  Hank doesn’t have to ponder on it too long because soon enough the alcohol starts to lull him in, makes him numb to most of it. He’s not sure how long he’s been sitting in the car for, gathering up some liquid courage, but he eventually gets out again and walks back to the trunk to get his bag with his clothes and some food. He hopes that some unpacking and eating will keep his mind occupied while he waits for Connor and Sumo to get back. Bags in hand, he turns around to walk back to the hotel room, only to startle and curse at someone standing right in front of him.

“Hello Lieutenant.”

Hank takes a step back, placing a now empty hand on his heart.

“Jesus, Connor! Warn a man, wouldcha?”

Connor frowns a little, adjusting his grip on Sumo’s leash.

“I’m sorry. I called out to you, but you wouldn’t respond. So I decided to approach you instead.”

The Lieutenant eyes him a little closer with a skeptical frown.

“Where the hell did you wander off to? I was worried, you could’ve at least left a note.”

Connor lifts up a little net to show Hank his latest purchase.

“I got you some fruit for breakfast. I also walked around town to scan our immediate surroundings for any possible hazards and potential threats.  Fortunately there were none. Sumo wanted to join me on the trip.”

The older man scoffs and looks at his dog who is half sitting, half lying to Connor’s feet, panting.

“Oh, did he? He looks wasted. You gotta go easy on my dog, he’s not used to that much walking, alright.”

Connor looks down at the dog, petting his head gently.

“I analyzed Sumo’s general wellbeing and concluded that he’s overweight and has not received adequate physical exercise within the past two years. I’m determined to change that so that he can live a long and healthy life. I hope you don’t mind.” 

Hank blinks at the android a few times.

“You got a vet and dog whispering program?”

Connor frowns yet again, not understanding the sarcasm.

“No? That observation stemmed from my forensics module. I can analyze and reconstruct things in real time.”

“Sarcasm, Connor. You gotta get a hang of it” Hank tells him with a bit of a smirk and then snatches the net away from the android to take a look at the fruit he’s bought. He spots some bananas and apples in different flavors among other things. He can’t even remember the last time he’s eaten either of those. They even make him squint a bit.

“Hank?” Connor asks after a moment of watching him.

The Lieutenant answers with nothing but a murmur and won’t look up. Instead he grabs one of the apples reluctantly and then stuffs it into his mouth since he really is hungry.

“Have you been drinking again?” the android asks cautiously, making Hank stop chewing, though the apple is still in his mouth. He looks up at the younger man, frowning. Connor is shifting around a bit because Sumo starts tugging at the leash, interested to get to the net now that his owner has started eating something. But he still remains somewhat in place, looking at Hank.

“My sensors detect the scent of alcohol and there’s an increase in your blood alcohol levels again.”

Hank still won’t say anything and instead overly concentrates on trying to get Sumo to back away from his fruit bag, nudging him away with a bit of a curse. Connor persists.

“I don’t mean to upset you. I know you don’t like getting analyzed. It just…trigged my data analysis program and now I’m wondering.”

“This is what you get when you got a super computer detective for a partner” Hank mutters, barely managing to hide his annoyance and shame because he’s tired of snapping at the android every time he does something that is just in his nature. He lets out a deep sigh and instead places a hand on Connor’s shoulder, giving it a squeeze. “Thanks for the food” he just says, ignoring the android’s observation completely. He turns around to get walking, to head back to their motel room. Connor takes the bag from him and follows, Sumo in tow.

“I know this is a sensitive topic for you Hank, but I need to remind you that you’re under the influence of painkillers and antibiotics. They could interfere with the alcohol you consumed and it could pose a threat to your wellbeing. You should stop drinking” the younger man insists on their way up the stairs and back inside the room. He lets Sumo enter and then closes the door shut behind them, suspecting another possible outburst from the Lieutenant given the topic. After a moment of hesitation, he goes on.

“I’d _like_ you to stop drinking. Please.”

The Lieutenant lets out an indecipherable noise as he tenses up and turns around to face the android, who is just looking back at him innocently with those patient and warm eyes, so oblivious to what they’re doing to him.

“I slipped up, alright?” he says, trying to keep the volume down although it’s still a bit louder than his usual speaking voice. “Unlike you, I don’t have a switch somewhere in me where I can just turn shit off. I’ve been trying to drink myself to death for the past two years and it ain’t exactly easy, just stopping like that” he says, snapping his fingers in front of his face to get the point across. Connor looks helpless but is still trying.

“I could try looking up some specialists in the area. Or design a schedule so you could gradually lower your intake while minimizing the withdrawal symptoms. I know that it is a serious medical condition. I have more data on it than you could ever gather. I also know that just like any other disorders, it can be treated and cured if you give it time.”

“Connor…”Hank says, exhaling in frustration. After a moment of calming himself, he feels like he can speak to his partner again without being overly snappy.

“I’m on it, alright. I’m trying. Cut me some slack and stop it with the housemaid protocols already. I‘m still here. If I wanted to continue drinking myself to death, I wouldn’t have driven all the way up to freakin Canada to do it. I’m working on it.”

Connor gives him a little smile.

“Thanks, Lieutenant. I really appreciate that” he says and turns to free Sumo from his leash. He then opens up Hank’s bag to transfer his clothes into the cupboard. Going straight back to _housemaid protocol_. Hank wants to facepalm himself extra hard, but then the sight of it just makes him scoff and smirk because he gets it. Connor is displaying his deviancy by not giving a fuck about what he has to say and what he wants him to stop doing. He does what he wants anyway. Hank sits down on the bed and keeps snacking away at the apple and then downs the banana right after, wincing at the horrible mix of tastes in his mouth. With the whiskey still lingering, everything suddenly tastes like a terrible fancy holiday cocktail. He sorts through the remaining fruit in the net and that sparks some curiosity in him.

“How’d you pay for the food anyway?”

Connor continues unpacking and won’t even bother looking at the Lieutenant now.

“Cyberlife provided both digital and physical funds for me during our investigation. I still had some of the physical money left and exchanged it for Canadian dollars close to the border.”

Hank listens up at the mention of Cyberlife and pales as worry immediately starts to creep up on him.

 “Cyberlife money…Don’t they keep tabs on that? How high are the chances of them tracing those transactions back to you and where we are?”

Connor still isn’t looking.

“I didn’t use the digital funds. Those would be the most likely to be traced so I refrained from using them. I used physical money instead.”

Hank frowns a little, not giving in.

“How high, Connor. It doesn’t matter what you used. It’s Cyberlife money. Didn’t you say you’re worth a fortune? You can bet they’re gonna do everything in their power to track you down while they still can. I don’t want to play into their cards and I wanna know the exact numbers. How high are the chances? Cos if they can trace that money exchange back to you, we ain’t staying here for another minute.”

Connor stops sorting the clothes and analyses the request, until he looks at Hank determinedly.

“6,5 per cent. I rounded the number up for good measure. That means it’s 93,5 per cent likely they won’t be able to trace the exchange back to me. And it’s 98,7 per cent likely they won’t be able to link it to our current location.”

Hank continues to eye the android sharply.

“You’re not lying to me?”

Connor immediately gives him a frown.

“No. Why would I?”

The Lieutenant continues to look at his partner, never giving in. After a moment, Connor gives him a gentle smile.

“I assure you they will not be able to track us because of a few dollars I exchanged 252 miles away from here. I was extra careful. And even if they did, I would know before they get the chance to approach us and I would be able to preconstruct a safe escape route within a zeptosecond. I’m _safe,_ Hank _._ You don’t have to worry. Though I certainly appreciate your concern.”

Although Hank only understands half the things his android partner is telling him, he still tries to relax a bit more, despite the fact that the wariness refuses to disappear. He eventually gets up to reach for his wallet, taking some of the Canadian dollars he’s exchanged shortly after their border crossing. He hands the bills to Connor who just looks at them questioningly.

“Take it. I don’t care if you can process things within a cryptosecond or whatever. Next time you buy something, you take this money. And if you need more, you just ask and you’ll get it.”

Connor continues to stare at the money, way longer than necessary until it almost looks like he won’t take it at all. Then he gently takes the bills from Hank and looks at them as if he’s just received a million dollars. Hank uses the moment to grab the rest of his clothes from his bag to put them in the cupboard to finish the job because he still hates the fact that Connor has picked up that ridiculous caretaker routine, making him feel old.

“What else did you get?” he asks, trying to sound all casual to make it easier for his partner. He once again can’t help but wonder, wants to ask so _many_ questions because all of this is so new and fascinating. He wonders what Connor is thinking, feeling, whether he feels appreciation or shame because of the money he’s been given. He wonders if Connor even knows what shame is, that many humans would feel ashamed in a situation like that, needing to accept money from others. The android silently puts the money away and then tries to snatch some more clothes from the bag before Hank can, but the Lieutenant is faster, almost turning it into an awkward scuffle over who gets to sort the rest of the clothes. He eventually remains standing where he is, awkwardly adjusting his sleeves now that he cannot fidget with his tie anymore.

“Nothing. I thought about buying you some more medication for your wound, but I didn’t want to risk using my digital funds and the physical money wasn’t enough to pay for it.”

“Huh” Hank just mutters and discretely side-eyes Connor. Now that he’s been busy unpacking his clothes and other belongings, he’s realizing something else.  The android is still wearing the same clothes he’s been wearing for the past two days. Since he doesn’t sweat and doesn’t smell like anything, that shouldn’t be much of a problem and he knows it. For all intents and purposes, Connor could be wearing his clothes forever. But it’s making things too obvious. The android _needs_ more clothes. A variety of them to pass for a normal human being. Hank also feels terrible about the fact that everything from the bags belongs to him. Connor doesn’t own a single thing in this room and hasn’t brought a single thing except maybe that little coin of his.

“You didn’t see anything you liked for yourself?”

“I don’t need food or medication. I don’t have any needs at all, so I don’t need to buy anything for myself.”

Hank counts down from ten and chews on his lower lip with a frustrated smile. This really feels like he’s talking to a freaking five year old sometimes. So oblivious to the most basic things in life. He also knows that in a way, that is absolutely true with the android. Technically, he’s been alive for barely two days.

“People don’t just buy things because they need them. Sometimes they buy things for the simple fact that they like ‘em and enjoy having them around. Like that coin of yours and the way you fidget with it all the time.”

Connor immediately reaches for it and does so, almost on autopilot.

“On the contrary, Lieutenant. I don’t like it, I need it to calibrate my motor skills and processing capabilities.”

Hank scoffs loudly and gives Connor a disbelieving smirk.

“Yeah, no. You have it cos you enjoy _fidgeting_. Now let’s go.”

The younger man keeps playing with his coin and frowns.

“Go where?”

“I'm taking you shoppin.”

* * *

  
**AM 11:17**

 Hank Anderson is very much aware of the fact that he has _terrible_ taste in clothing and patterns. It’s something he takes great pride in. In a way, it _is_ a style. Silly patterns and ridiculous colors for his shirts, emblems not fitting for his age, or the entire make and model of his clothes belonging in a time long since passed. It’s his trademark. He knows that he’s probably the last person who should go shopping with a young, intelligent and easy on the eyes deviant android. Even more so once they consider the fact that Connor has been designed by multi-millionaire high tech designers with degrees in engineering and arts. Where Connor has consisted of suits and ties and expensive fabrics, Hank is all about cheap and colorful dollar store shirts and 29 year old jackets and 10 year old worn out jeans.

Just because of those facts alone he’s taken his fair distance from the android inside the clothing shop, trying to give him some space and time to try and figure out what he likes and what he doesn’t. It doesn’t take long for them both to realize that it isn’t working _at all_ though. So far, they have spent 27 minutes inside the store. 27 minutes of walking around, looking at the displays, checking out a shirt or some pants or two. Connor excels at talking all about the clothes and shop itself. Flooding Hank with information regarding the fact that the store has 189 different sweaters, 87 different shirts and 93 different sets of pants or jeans. He’s keen on listing every single fabric, fabrication date, all the sales numbers and flaws in their manufacturing. He spends an entire 6 minutes on trying to inform Hank about the psychology behind the positioning of the displays and the layout of the store and the marketing strategies and even tries talking about the history of clothing manufacture and sales. 27 minutes of walking and talking and Hank trying to run away from the flood of information…. And not a single piece of clothing for Connor. Even with all this data and information, the android has great trouble picking anything at all, and it doesn’t take Hank long to deduct that maybe Connor is doing all that rapid firing of useless trivia to divert his attention from exactly that fact. After 27 minutes of trying to run away and giving the android some time and space to pick something, Hank’s fed up with it.

“Alright, just pick _one._ **Now** ” he says in the middle of another one of Connor’s “Did you know”’s, shutting him up mid-sentence. The both of them are standing in a section dealing with all things regarding the upper body, be it shirts, sweaters or jackets. The android’s eyes immediately widen a bit and he shuts up, helplessly looking around for a while. Eventually, he walks up to one random rack displaying some shirts and then takes one of the most _hideous_ ones, a black shirt that is covered with yellow, blue and red shapes that Hank swears look like a mixture of terribly drawn ducks, foxes and fish.

“What are you, twelve?” he immediately asks, raising an eyebrow while all the color drains from his face at the same time. He’s actually praying to god that this isn’t _really_ what Connor likes. He wants this entire spontaneous shopping trip to be a lesson for the android, to get him used to this whole identity and own style and taste thing. He really wants to let him make his own choices to help him grow. But still. He’s _praying_ that this is not it.

“2 days, 4 hours, 35 minutes and 28 seconds. Or 2 months, 28 days, 15 hours, 42 minutes and 33 seconds. Depending on what can be defined as my age considering my cloud memory capabilities and previous deaths.”

Hank looks around the store and then hushes Connor again, trying to get him to quit it with his android talk.

“Shut up, you know what I mean. I’m talking about the fucking shirt and what’s on it. That’s something you’d buy your 12 year old kid to piss him off. Not a 28 year old _law student, okay?_ ” Hank hisses, even nudging Connor in the back once to get his point across that they’re doing undercover work. The android however, looks even more lost and confused.

“I don’t understand. I thought this is about finding out what I like. I need clothes and I like animals. This is a shirt that has fish on it. So according to logic, I found what we’re looking for?”

“I like hot wings but you don’t see me wearing ‘em, do you? There’s a difference between liking something and liking something while still looking acceptable wearing it.”

Hank gives Connor a glare when the android actually dares to side-eye him, obviously checking if maybe there is some hot wings patterns on his shirt. The Lieutenant lets out a frustrated little sigh.

“Look, I get it, all you know is the shit I wear, and I wear some ugly shit sometimes but I  already told you. Stop focusing on me, this is about _you_. You’re not me, you’re _you_. Just….look around. Find something _you’_ re interested in. You know, like when you scanned the crime scenes we investigated and you started looking for clues. How did you find the first thing you analyzed?”

Connor’s eyes shift a bit as he focuses, reconstructing their past crime scenes.

“I…analyzed whatever caught my attention first.”

Hank nods, looking around the store.

“Exactly. The first thing you’re drawn to. For whatever reason. That’s something you’re _interested_ in. That’s what you’re looking for here. Excluding the…heck, I don’t know. Shit you usually tag with ‘Hank Anderson-ish.’ No ridiculous patterns, something that you like and that fits the cover story. Anything that you’re drawn to just because.”

“I call it _Hank-ish_ ” Connor corrects him, but then actually does as he’s told. He reactivates his scanner and starts wandering around, treating the store like a crime scene, looking for an unknown variable.

 **Mission objective :**  
Investigate..??!§#?)  
Locate …-5 &$?!  
_Analyzing….._

Minutes pass and Hank almost wants to quit the whole thing after all. He’s standing by the jeans display by now, cluelessly flicking some back and forth, continuously looking back at Connor to try to figure out what size to pick. He doesn’t like the prospect of having to dictate everything for the android _again_ , but he really doesn’t know what else to do at this point. Then, by some miracle, Connor turns back up with a white dress shirt, a light blue one, and two simple sweaters – a grey and an anthracite one. There is no patterns, no shapes, no real personality behind them and Hank is terribly aware of the fact that the colors are almost identical to Cyberlife’s design. But then again, the clothes are simple, clean, and a lot better than the first shirt he’s picked.

“You like those?” Hank asks cautiously, looking at the neatly folded clothes dangling off of Connor’s right arm. The android looks down at the sweater on top, pondering.

“I don’t know if I _like_ them but…they were the first things I was drawn to.”

After a moment, the Lieutenant decides that he just can’t keep the commentary in.

“You do know that those are pretty similar to the clothes Cyberlife stuck you in, right.”

Connor nods.

“I think what  I’m feeling when I see them can be identified as…comfort. I was drawn to these clothes because they looked familiar.”

Hank continues to stare, not really liking the whole deal. But he decides to go against his gut feeling. After all, it’s not about him. This is about Connor, figuring out who the hell he is, what he likes and strives for. He wants him to feel comfortable. All he does is give the android a slight nod and then hands him a couple of jeans and other pants he’s picked for him in the meantime.

“I uh, got those for you. Don’t know if they fit. Maybe you should try the stuff on, see if you like ‘em.”

Connor takes the pants and smiles happily at Hank, thanking him. He keeps standing there, adoring his partner with that smile, until Hank raises an eyebrow at him.

“You gonna be standing there forever or are you actually gonna try the stuff on?”

“Right. I’m sorry. I’m going to try them on right away” Connor says and finally heads towards the changing rooms. Hank watches until his partner disappears behind the curtains, then shakes his head a bit with a chuckle, enjoying the androids slightly oblivious nature. He takes his time to wander about for a bit, checking a few shirts for himself, halting in front of the one Connor has first picked. It still looks terrible, way worse than any of the shirts he’s ever bought for himself. The Lieutenant regards the shirt for a while and eventually takes it from the rack anyway, feeling more at ease with the thing. Because he’s starting to realize that it is totally irrelevant how ugly the shirt is. It has been the first thing Connor has been drawn to completely on his own, making it special. So he takes it and quickly walks over to the checkout area, buying it just because. He makes sure to hide it in the bag under an unnecessary additional scarf and a few socks and gets back in time for Connor to step out of the changing room, now wearing the white shirt and grey sweater as well as one of the fancier pants.

It is frustrating to see how neutral and unassuming Connor still looks and how _much_ it still resembles his former Cyberlife uniform. At least none of the shapes and numbers are on the clothes though, showing at least some improvement. Connor regards himself in the mirror outside the changing rooms with a neutral look on his face, fixing his already incredibly tight collar multiple times, smoothening his hair and adjusting his sleeves. Despite the frustrating lack of color or that special something the android still looks neat and tidy, and in a way it fits his cover story just fine. He looks like an unassuming wallflower law student.

Hank stands behind him and regards him in the mirror, too, failing to hide his slight disappointment this time.

“I take it you don’t like it?” Connor notices immediately, looking unsure.

Hank scoffs and walks around the android so he can look at him in the flesh and not just through a mirror, eyeing him head to toe with a raised eyebrow.

“Nah, you look just like you. Stick up the ass know it all nerd you. It’s fine. Suits yah” the older man observes and then eventually and reluctantly approaches Connor, tugging away at his sweater and shirt a bit to loosen them up, open the top button, try to make it more casual and not so creepily perfect and mannequin-like. Connor instinctively reaches right back up for his collar, trying to readjust it and close the button again but Hank slaps the hand away, frowning at the android.

“Jesus, isn’t there a button in your brain somewhere to turn off that constant nit-picking at your clothes thing? I’m trying to make you look more _casual_ here, alright? Whatever the hell that means with you. Now _relax_ ” he complains a bit, eventually softening up when he realizes that he’s way too impatient and snappy with the android again. He loosens up the collar for a second time, catching himself thinking about Cole again. How he never got to prepare him for his first day of school. Buy him nice clothes for his first prom. His graduation. His marriage. Show him how to tie a tie although he barely has a clue himself. All those stupid, silly little things that have been taken from them the moment Cole died on that table. And here he is, clinging to Connor’s collar and fixing it, holding on to it like a lifeline.

“Look. Doesn’t that feel way more comfortable?”

Connor regards himself in the mirror again but doesn’t have an answer. All he knows to do is analyze himself, every fabric, every fiber of his new clothes, everything wrong with them and their shades of color, how they don’t quite match his predesigned schemes.

 **** __  
! **ERROR –**  
unknown memory and processing patterns detected  
_Scanning…._  
_Analyzing…_ ****  
Override initiated : New String __  
New Emotional Response Added  
_Counterchecking against known human variables…_  
_Nostalgia -_ _wistful desire_ _to_ _return_ _in_ _thought_ _or in_ _fact_ _to a_ _former time_ _in_ _one's life,  
sentimental yearning for the happiness __of a_ _former place, time or condition_

Thanks to his incredibly accurate memory module, he still knows every last detail of his former attire. Its colors, its fabrics its…feel. And thanks to his slow but steady understanding of his new emotional responses, he can successfully identify the fact that he _misses_ his uniform, wants to replicate it and its feel as closely as he can.

“I don’t know…” he mutters as an answer, looking lost and unsure because of sight. He startles a bit when Hank places a hand on his shoulder, giving it that reassuring squeeze once more.

“That’s fine. We’ll take the stuff regardless. If it fits it does the job for now. We can always figure out what you like later.”

With that, he’s already let go again, quick to turn around and get some distance between them. He’s a bit surprised how much it still stings, the entire Cole and Connor being a machine deal. He also feels like a bit of a hypocrite, telling the android all about figuring out what he wants when he doesn’t even know what he actually wants himself, constantly stuck in a limbo of wanting to form an actual familial bond with the android or pushing him away and never opening his heart up ever again. Connor regards him curiously and eventually embraces his deviancy for the moment, speaking his own mind freely.

“I know I’d really like it if you picked something for me” he’s quick to suggest, making Hank look at him. “Only if you want to of course. I’d appreciate the help until I know what I like on my own.”

Hank keeps looking at Connor for a good minute, not really sure how to handle the situation. Then he gives him a little nod and turns around to let his gaze wander, taking in the sight of all these different clothing articles. In the light of having to dress someone other than himself, he suddenly understands why Connor is having such a hard time picking something.

“Sure” he just mutters, bracing himself for the terrible task of trying not to make his partner look like a total dumbass.

* * *

 

**Wasaga Beach Waterfront  
PM 5:47**

**Current Main Objectives :** **  
** Take Sumo for his evening walk

By the end of day two, Connor has already started a digital spreadsheet detailing all the things he likes and dislikes. They’re not sorted by priority or meaning yet, not catalogued or analyzed but they’re there and ever growing. He likes that his list of likes is growing. He still likes Sumo and animals in general. He likes the new clothes he’s wearing – the light blue shirt and anthracite sweater he as picked accompanied by the dress pants, blue scarf and thick wintercoat Hank has bought for him. He likes the warmth they provide no matter how indifferent he is to the cold outside, likes the sensation of the coat’s lining and scarf rubbing against the back of his neck with each step taken. He’s absolutely positive that he likes Hank _very much_ , likes the fact that his partner is actually accompanying him on his evening walk with Sumo. With the new algorithm running through the list, he’s quick to identify even more specifications all thanks to his deviancy.

 _ **Scanning….**_ **** __  
!ERROR - signs of de ~~viancy detected. Seek assistanc~~ e.  
_Rescan…Overwrite complete._ **** __  
**Overwrite Input**  
New String  
_Analyzing…_  
**Sub-differentiations of ‘Like’ added**  
_enjoy, appreciate_ **** __  
**New Spreadsheets created**  
‘ _Things I Enjoy_ ’, ‘ _Things I Appreciate_ ’

****

He doesn’t like Hank accompanying him, he _enjoys_ it. He’s appreciated the beauty of the sun setting over the frozen lake here, is starting to appreciate….freedom.

Though he won’t speak it out or question Hank about it, he knows why the Lieutenant has tagged along. The moment he has stated his intention of stepping back outside to take Sumo for his evening walk he’s seen and heard all the spikes in Hank’s heart rate and anxiety levels. His programming as detective has immediately made all the right connections, letting him know that his partner has only insisted on joining due to his lingering fear over what has happened the evening prior back in Detroit. Connor’s aware that it’s wrong to think that way and that it’s certainly no long term solution, but he likes that this nagging fear is keeping Hank outside and walking, keeping him in shape and away from a bar and a bottle. Up until two days ago, Hank Anderson has been sitting in the same bar almost every day around this time, drinking himself into a state of oblivion after having spent most of the day embracing his deep depression, eating unhealthy food and being anti-social at work.

Today has been different for the both of them. Connor has made sure that Hank’s meals have consisted of more than enough healthy ingredients, animated him to walk more and drive less, is keeping him away from a night with a bottle of whiskey for just a while longer. He knows that Hank will use any chance he can get later to still try to drink, but prolonging it for as long as he possibly can is something for now. In return, the Lieutenant has gifted him his very own first possessions – clothes and a book to keep him occupied for the night while he’s asleep when he cannot do the same. The book is another thing that Connor appreciates a lot. The gesture behind it, not the actual item. He hasn’t told his partner that he can read a physical book about 50 times faster than a human, meaning it will only take him about 15 minutes to turn all of its pages and process all of its written information, not an entire night. It’s one of the things he’s managed to refine in his programming already – the act of withholding knowledge and information for someone else’s sake, to ease their minds. He likes to have Hank believe that he’s done him well, not have him think the effort useless given his speed. The android has already optioned the possibility of reading the book multiple times this night just to humor the Lieutenant to display his appreciation for the gift.

They walk along the frozen waterfront for a while in comfortable silence until Hank needs to sit down on a bench to get some rest. Although Connor is perfectly comfortable standing still for hours on end he decides to join his partner, sitting down next to him though he keeps some personal space between them. Both of them look out onto the frozen lake for quite a while, enjoying the sight of the moonlight reflected on its surface. Eventually, Connor starts observing Hank for a bit, once again envying that thing humans can do with their breath in the cold air – forming little white clouds with each slow exhale through his nose. He’s still wishing his breath could do that. Hank turns his head to look back at him when he can’t stand the sensation of being watched anymore, wondering. While he takes his time to come up with what to say, Connor adds another thing to his ever growing list of likes : _comfortable shared silence_. After a good 15 minutes of that, Hank finally speaks.

“What are you thinking, Connor?” he wonders out loud, looking into his brown eyes carefully. “What’s going on inside your head right now.” There’s a little pause, then he scoffs, leans forward and stares back out at the frozen lake. “Truth is, I don’t even really wanna know. Can’t imagine what that’s like. Getting all those emotions and thoughts at once, not having a clue who I am or who I wanna be.”

Connor looks at the lake, too, taking his time to come up with an honest answer, buying some time with a quick standard reply first.

“It’s challenging….but I was programmed to adapt to emotional unpredictability. I’m okay.”

Hank chuckles a little, scratching Sumo behind his left ear.

“Yeah, right” he mutters, doubting the answer, still remembering the gun underneath the android’s chin all too clearly.

Connor rubs his hands together though he doesn’t feel cold. For the first time he’s really noticing his preprogrammed patterns. They’re automated processes, something similar to human subconscious actions like breathing and shivering, designed to facilitate his integration. It makes him feel uncomfortable for many reasons. Hank accusing him of faking everything just two nights ago, faking to be human when he wants nothing more than to stay a machine. That, and all the other involuntary things that have happened. The hacking, the forceful resumption of his program to remote control him, gun in hand, trying to assassinate Markus with his body. If it weren’t for Hank, he would stop all of those automated simulated process like breathing, hand rubbing or shivering, resume absolute control of his programming because he is still so very scared of losing control to Cyberlife. But he can’t bring himself to embrace his true machine mannerisms because he knows that they have such a negative impact on Hank. He knows his partner is desperate for him to pretend that he’s _human_ , so he continues going through the motions of breathing and shivering in the cold, feeling naked without his LED and uniform.

“I’m thinking about asking you another personal question. Which is why I’ve decided to keep quiet, Lieutenant” he eventually admits in regards to Hank’s previous question. _What are you thinking_.

Hank presses his lips together but still looks back at the android.

“Huh…I knew you were brewing something up.”

Connor gives him a little smile, hoping to cheer his partner up as apology.

“Go on then, ask already” Hank gives in, looking at the reflected moonlight again just in case. Connor leans forward and lets out a soft unnecessary sigh, replicating Hank’s actions.

“Sometimes when you look at me, you look very upset. The way you looked the night I deviated, when you had the gun and kept looking at that picture.”

There is a long dreaded pause and Hank just closes his eyes, bracing himself.

“Of Cole” Connor adds a moment later, slowly and carefully approaching the topic. His opposite won’t answer and just keeps sitting there dead still, eyes closed.

“When you look at me that way like today in the store, it’s because you wish he were there in that moment instead of me, am I right?”

Hank still won’t move or answer.

“Alive. _Really_ alive. And human.”

There’s a barely audible sigh and the Lieutenant finally shifts a bit.

“Connor…”

“I was wondering if there is anything else I could do to help you through this difficult time. So you don’t feel the need to drink so frequently anymore.”

“You’re doing just fine, okay” Hank tries to soothe the android, but Connor isn’t finished just yet.

“I’m just trying to say…I stand by what I said last week in Riverside Park. I can be whatever you want me to be, Lieutenant. If it’d help you recover.”

Hank actually looks at Connor properly now, frowning in disbelief and slight disgust.

“What the hell are you even suggesting right now?”

Connor looks back at him, an unreadable expression on his face.

“I’m suggesting that I could try to adapt to your difficult situation whenever you need it. And if you feel like you really need your son instead of me for a while, to be less upset in certain situations, maybe I could try to simulate his….”

“Simulate, what, _Cole_? You’re not _seriously_ proposing you stop being you to pretend to be a dead six year old that's all grown up, are you?”

Connor looks back at him, not understanding the problem.

“I was designed to be the ideal partner and adapt to all of my partner’s needs. So that’s what I’m proposing. Correct” he states, as if it’s a totally normal and plausible explanation. He falls silent and refrains from further explaining his reasoning, picking up on Hank’s elevated vitals and stress levels.

For a moment, Hank is rendered speechless by a sudden, intense anger and gets off the bench. He walks a few steps, approaching the beach, both hands on his hips. His anger catapults him back to that case with those two girls. He's back inside the Eden Club, seeing all those androids in plastic tubes with advertisements plastered all over the place. _Your perfect partner. No questions asked. Now adapting and catering to all your needs and phantasies_. _Sorted by flavor, coming in menus with your added champagne package or takeaway deals._ He’s never wasted a thought on this before, but he now comes to the terrible realization that next to his obviously incredible detective and criminology skills, Connor might’ve been programmed in a very similar way as all the other androids, like all those housemaids coming with extra packages he’s heard about. Deep inside, he knows Connor has been programmed to adapt to _all_ of his law enforcement partner’s needs. He just happens to be the partner needing his dead son. Connor’s there to provide it. When Cyberlife had been in need of a murdering cold machine, Connor -60 had been there to provide it for them. If another partner had needed something else, another Connor would’ve been there to provide it. It sickens him and only furthers his intense anger.

“ _’Ideal Partner’_. That’s complete and utter bullshit and you know it. You can barely fucking manage simulating human behavior as is and now you wanna…”

He turns back around to glare at Connor, who is sitting dead still on the bench, patiently waiting for him to return. Seeing him like that feels like someone is stabbing him in his chest and twisting it around. It pains him to see how brainwashed the android still is, trapped in this coded behavior of constantly having to _please_ humans and put their physical and emotional wellbeing before his own, even going so far as to be willing to erase his very own personality and existence for the sake of him. The sight of him grounds the Lieutenant and he’s quick to differentiate his anger and hatred this time, knowing that he’s mad at Cyberlife programming something as fucked up as Connor’s willingness to simulate a dead child, not mad at Connor himself.

He takes a few deep breaths and then moves his hand across his mouth and beard, gathering the courage and calm to speak to Connor again after the initial rage. He sits back down next to him, slowly. They go back to complete silence for a few minutes, then Hank speaks up again, calmer this time.

“You’re right. Sometimes I look at you and I see him. Truth is, I see him everywhere all the time, but ever since you came, it’s like I got this ghost next to me all the time. Every time you died, it made me think of him, everything I _lost_. And now that you’re alive, you constantly remind me of all the things I never got the chance to see or do with him. That’s why I looked at you that way back in that store.”

Connor just listens quietly, hands pressed together and tugged between his knees as if to keep them warm. Hank studies the android for a bit, unable to hide his deep sadness.

“You’re everything I would’ve loved to see him become one day, that’s all. _That_ makes me upset. Not you. Well maybe just a bit. You kinda look alike, ever notice that? Sometimes I wonder if Cyberlife did that shit on purpose to get me on my good side for their investigation. Wouldn’t put it past them.”

“My model’s appearance was designed four months before the first recorded DPD case on deviancy. During that phase, it was not yet determined that I would be stationed at DPD Central station and partnered with you. It’s just a coincidence, Hank” Connor says quietly, though he has been wondering the same thing when he’d first seen the picture himself, prompting him to research his own blueprints in the first place.

Hank looks up ahead, taking his time to get his tone and words just right.

“I know….Look, Connor. You’re not Cole. Can’t be, never will be no matter how much I’d like it. You need to be your own person. I’ll be hurtin for a very long time over this. Probably until the day I die. But dealing and coping with that, that’s up to me alone. I’ve gotta change to get better. Not you. We didn’t fight a billion dollar corporation to gain your freedom and identity just to erase it and replace it with a dead kid’s right after.”

Connor relaxes a bit, though he still looks conflicted.

“I’d just like you to be happy. Not upset you even more with my presence. I don’t like seeing you upset” the android says truthfully, making Hank scoff.

“And I want you to stop being a brown nosing slave machine, get your rights, figure out who you are and stop dying. Guess what, friendship means having to compromise and bargain. Suck it up.”

Connor gives him a little pout and shoves his hands in his coat pockets, processing everything he’s just heard.

Accessing cloud memory storage…  
Connor Model RK800 #313 248 317 -52  
NOV 6th, 03:06PM

_Rain is falling. He’s standing in front of the Chicken Feet to Hank’s right, watching him order a burger and soda.  
His hands are folded behind his straight back as he processes all possible approaches, settling on one._

_“I think our relationship got off on the wrong foot. We should...forget what happened...and start over. What do you say?”_

_Back then, he hasn’t been able to identify the subtle emotion building up inside him as he’s said these words, now he can name it – hopefulness -  
as he waits for Hank’s reaction.  _ _The Lieutenant is waving him off angrily though, smashing these hopes._

_“Look, they sent me a piece of plastic for a partner, and I'm dealing with it._  
But if you think we're gonna be **buddies** , you're as stupid as you look.”  
  
Connor Model RK800 #313 248 317 -53  
NOV 10th, 04:22PM

_I'm not programmed to say things like this, but... I really appreciated working with you.  
With a little more time, who knows... We might've even become **friends**..._

Connor -54 smiles a bit.

“Friendship?” he repeats hopefully, making Hank look at him. The Lieutenant keeps quiet for a good minute, then scoffs and looks back at the lake.

“Well, duh.”

▲▲ **Software Instability** ▲▲ ****  
Hank **▲** **▲**  
Friend

Connor’s smile only widens as a rush of software instability hits him with these words.

 _ **Scanning….**_ **** __  
!ERROR - signs of de ~~viancy detected. Seek assistanc~~ e.  
_Rescan…Overwrite complete._ **** __  
**New Emotion Detected**  
_Analyzing…._ Match Found:  
**I Am Happy**

“Hank?”

“Huh?”

“I think I’m experiencing a new emotion right now. My stress levels just plummeted and I think I’m….I’m really _happy_.”

Hank turns his head to look at the android curiously. Connor is not looking back at him but is focused all on himself, wonder and surprise crossing his features. That smile is back again, the _real_ one that includes dimples and that glow in his eyes, so unlike the fake ones he’s flashed before his deviancy. He nods to himself, confirming the emotion and his experience with it. Hank cracks a smile, too. Slow at first, but then it lights up his face too, makes him chuckle happily. He wraps an arm around the android’s back and pats his shoulder a bit, until he moves the hand up and ruffles his hair affectionately to ruin its carefully crafted smooth style. Connor tries to fight it and get his hair back on track but Hank has him in too much of a tight grip, gaining the upper hand. Then a new sound suddenly escapes the androids mouth, something the both of them have never heard from him before. It’s a bit clumsy and strange for the simple fact that it’s so unlike Connor but then they both are able to identify it – a giggle, maybe even a first attempt at laughing no matter how bad. They still and look at each other in surprise, not saying anything for a while as they deal with this onslaught of new experiences. Hank decides to take the lead and relaxes, remaining the way they are and looks back at the moon, a comfortable smile on his face, realizing that it feels _good_ to be the origin of this.

He cannot really remember anymore when anything like that has happened. Being the cause of something _positive_ , not death or misery and discomfort. For two years now he’s been a dark cloud hovering above everyone’s head, dragging everyone down with him. With Connor, it might be different now. With Connor, he might finally be the person to lift someone _up_ again, be their guidance and support in life. And it feels great.

“I think I'm getting there, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took a while again, but thanks for sticking around! Love these two and all of your and your comments <3


	6. Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor and Hank enjoy their first trip together. Everything seems to settle and there's some positive news from America.  
> Connor is starting to show more and more interests and a personality. Everything is just fine and dandy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So! Back with a new chapter. This one is pretty heavy on the internal monologue and light on dialogue because some time has passed since the last chapter and I felt the need to clarify some changes. Wehhh. Thanks for all the comments and kudos as always!

**Kawartha Lakes Waterfalls**  
**NOV 28TH, 2038**  
**PM 2:02**

“You really _are_ trying to kill me, aren’t you.”

Connor turns around to look at his partner, carefully scanning his entire form, analyzing the sound of his voice and the look on his face with a little frown.

He’s still walking on the snowy dirt path they’re following, although he’s walking backwards now in order to be able to look at the Lieutenant.

 ** _Scanning…._**  
!ERROR - signs of de ~~viancy detected. Seek assistanc~~ e.  
_Rescan…Overwrite complete._  
**I AM DEVIANT**  
_Analyzing…._ _Cross-referencing “Sarcasm“_  
Possibility of Hank being sarcastic with statement: ****  
**57 %**  
_Request further input to verify_

Connor eventually cracks a smile, deciding that since he’s not entirely sure if his partner is being sarcastic with the remark or not, it’s best to reply in a similar manner, the way he’s observed Hank do it so many times.

“Of _course_ , Lieutenant. I’ve waited two weeks and driven you almost 400 miles away from home just to kill you in the Canadian wilderness today.”

Hank looks up from the icy path he’s had his eyes fixed on for the past 15 minutes and gives Connor a glare.

“Hey, just because you updated your dictionary on sarcasm, it doesn’t mean you get to be sarcastic little shit with me all the time now” he answers grumpily, although they both eventually end up smiling even more. Connor chuckles, something he’s been practicing and doing a lot lately, and then turns back around to continue leading their little excursion, scanning their surroundings and adjusting his GPS signal. “We should be close” he observes, getting sidetracked when his scanner picks up a few animal traces on the ground. He suddenly takes a sharp left turn, guiding them onto a path that is a lot smaller, steeper and more frozen than the one they’ve been following before. Hank winces miserably in the background at the sight of the steep slope, really out of breath by now.

“Seriously, Connor. _Why_.”

“I told you, I’ve never seen a real waterfall before. According to my data, neither have you. Since we were in close proximity to this one, I thought it to be the most efficient if we just stopped by this one to cross it off the list.”

“I didn’t ever see one because I knew it’d involve all this hiking up some icy, slippery…FUCK!” Hank curses, interrupting his rant as he nearly slips on a particularly slippery patch of their path, barely managing to keep his balance. “Exactly, because of shit just like this!”

Connor quickly walks back to Hank to try and help him with his balance, moving gracefully and never tripping all thanks to his preconstructive abilities and path finding systems.

“Hiking is good for your health, Hank. And I figured it’d be easier than canoeing, considering your wounded shoulder.”

“It’s no good if it involves me falling on my ass or slipping a disk! I told you, it’s November. In _Canada_. Everything’s frozen and it’s too cold. You’re definitely out to kill me, just say it.”

The android lets out a little sigh, giving in.

“I understand. Let’s go back to the car then.”

There they are again, warm brown eyes, displaying a perfect mixture of sadness, understanding, hoping and subtle begging. _Ideal partner. Adapting to human unpredictability_. Connor is learning at an alarmingly fast rate, knowing _exactly_ how to simulate certain behavior to use it to his advantage and get what he wants from him. Hank lets out a frustrated growl, getting reminded of how Sumo likes to do the same thing, puppy eyes, playing him like a fiddle.

“We made it all the way up here now, didn’t we. Might as well finish it” he just scoffs and keeps walking, taking over the lead now. After a moment of thinking, he can’t keep the remark in.

“What the hell is it with you and the canoe deal anyway? You keep bringing that up.”

Connor follows eagerly, happy to share his initial idea.

“This park offers a great variety of outdoor activities. And next to hiking and camping they also offer canoeing tours around here. I like canoeing. I think you’d like it, too. It could have a positive effect on your mental attitude and stress levels. It’s really relaxing.”

Hank barks out a little laugh at Connor’s ‘ _I like canoeing_ ’ comment, shaking his head in disbelief and wonder.

“Where the hell did you ever get in a canoe in Detroit _?_ ”

The android is quick to catch up to his partner, smiling happily at the sight of Hank laughing.

“It wasn’t really a canoe as such. It was more of a small wooden boat. In my mind palace, the Zen Garden I told you about. I did it digitally, and I’d like to experience it in the physical world, too. One day.”

“Well, did your little mind trips also include digitally freezing your nuts off? Cos that’s gonna happen to you out here in the real world in the dead of November.”

Connor frowns a little at the vulgar mental image, shaking his head.

“It’s impossible for me to…”

Hank immediately lifts up his hand, shushing the android before he can speak it out.

“Too much information, Connor” he says, until he starts chuckling to himself and shakes his head. “ _’I like canoeing’_ ” Hank repeats and keeps walking. “Christ. Never change, kid.”

They keep on walking for a while until they reach their destination, a little lookout point up in the hills that grants them a nice overview of the national park and waterfall Connor has been so interested in. Hank sits down on one of the wooden logs that have been set up as seats to catch breath, rubbing his hands against the top of his thighs to get them to warm up, looking around. Truth be told, he feels a bit embarrassed by how out of shape he’s gotten in just a matter of two years. Before Cole and his rapid fall into a pit of heavy drinking and depression, he’d been in great shape, taking pride in his former career as model police officer and then detective and Lieutenant, chasing his fair share of criminals on foot. Technically speaking, 53 years is no age in this day anymore, not when the average American reaches an age of 91 and when there’s reports about the first cases of possible immortality. Technically speaking, he’s still fairly young, and it pains him to realize just how right Connor has been with all his talk regarding his diet and habits. Everything he’s done so far trying to destroy and kill himself has been doing a great job. He’s become a fairly unhealthy old drunk.

He looks up to face Connor, who is standing by the edge of the lookout with his arms wrapped around himself as if shielding himself from a cold he doesn’t feel. He still looks like a perfect statue, never freezing, never tiring, never slipping or getting out of shape. Hank once again can’t help but envy his friend at first, wishing to be as young as him again, though he eventually changes his mind on that. Despite the fact that Connor doesn’t tire and is made of steel, he suddenly looks very fragile in a way. Looking at a waterfall and standing in the middle of real wilderness for the very first time.

“So. We’ve made it” Hank eventually says, making Connor turn around so he can look at him curiously. “What’s your verdict?”

The android regards him for a moment, unsure, and then turns his head back around to take in the view once more. After a good few minutes of consideration, he eventually gives an answer.

“It’s really pretty. I like how… _quiet_ everything is. Yes. I like it” he decides with a confident nod, wrapping his arms around himself a little more. Then he smiles to himself, gently and in private as he goes back to taking in the view. Hank smirks a bit and eventually gets up from the log, slowly approaching Connor until he comes to a halt right next to him, hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket when the cold breeze from the wide open suddenly hits him, too. He regards Connor’s profile and figure a moment longer, wondering if the android is actually starting to feel temperature now, too, not just emotions, the way he keeps his hands wrapped around his figure, shivering a bit. It’s hard to get a grasp of his actions and behavior since his deviancy event, and the Lieutenant can never quite tell what is an automated algorithm in his partner to simulate human behavior to fit in and what is a genuine reaction to external stimuli.

Connor is busy analyzing the view in the meantime, trying hard not to get distracted by his analytical programming that immediately tries to scan and analyze _everything_ he sees. He’s already discovered 12 different kinds of birds, several mammals as well as 8 humans in their vicinity by the time he consciously forces himself to stop and focus on the view itself instead, which is still hard. With his deviation event, he’s come to the unpleasant realization that his entire forensics module has gone deviant as well, resulting in him getting easily sidetracked and distracted. Without a clear mission or defined set of tasks, his analytical programming has started picking up and analyzing practically _everything_ that catches his attention now, regardless of its relevance. He’s constantly marveling at the most random details around them. He finds it incredibly fascinating to finally _see_ the world freely without being trapped in a mind cage, dictating his every move, what to analyze, where to go. At the same time, he finds all these endless possibilities and points of interest very troubling and at times overwhelming.

Most of the data he has collected regarding the whole deviancy issue has described the experience as a weight being lifted off an android’s chest, like transitioning from a historic silent black and white movie to a high resolution movie with colorful dynamic range, like stepping out of a dense fog into a bright and clear day. According to Connor’s data, almost all android models have described their vision of the world after their deviation like this, making him or his series the only one to experience it differently. Whenever he takes the conscious time to ponder on what he would describe it as, like he does it now as he’s taking in the view, he comes to the conclusion that his deviancy is the complete opposite of everything the other deviants describe. To him, it feels like he has stepped out of a calm and comfortable place, like a library or his Zen Garden into one of Hank’s metal concerts. Everything feels crowded, flashy, too loud and invasive, like everything is yelling at him at times because there is just so _much_ going on in the world.

This is exactly the reason why he likes it here, in the middle of a national park, looking at and listening to the calming stream of the waterfall. There are no people or androids around, no violence or deaths of revolutions or crime scenes, just him and Hank in the quiet. It feels like he’s back in the garden, peaceful and safe, only that this one is much bigger, much more real and livelier than his graphic interface and most importantly – lacks the constant threat of Amanda. He’s content that he _likes_ it here, but that eventually troubles him even more.

Before renting that little holiday cabin about a hundred miles away from the first town they have stayed in, they had initially settled on Montreal as their final location. Then he’d constantly gotten distracted en route to the city, getting interested in various sites along the highway, continuously asking if they could stop to check them out until Hank has reached his “Fuck it” point and found them a somewhat more permanent place to stay in the area. That happened about a week ago, and they’ve never talked about Montreal ever since. It has taken Connor a few days, but he’s eventually managed to identify the emotions he feels in relation to that decision as guilt and regret. He feels sorry for being the reason they haven’t followed through with their initial plan so far.

Connor knows that his partner is really eager to get back into a bigger city, knows that Hank is starting to miss Detroit more and more. Though whenever he mentions it, Hank always waves him off and tells him that the place they’re staying at is as good as any, and ‘ _a whole lot better than any motel dump in Montreal if we’re getting real. I’m tired of shitty motel beds and crap food_.’ Connor’s senses and detective programming are far too sharp and advanced to fall for the excuses though. Despite Hank’s claims that he’s just fine here, the android has noticed a dramatic increase in his partner’s stress levels and wariness of their surroundings especially during the past two days, has taken note of all his remarks regarding the area’s people not sitting right with him, how “ _everyone’s everyone’s fucking cousin or brother in law here_ ”. Connor has checked the town’s records and found the observation to be untrue, but he’s still come to the conclusion that Hank’s mood and opinion would dramatically increase in accordance to their next location’s size. This has been one of the many reasons why the android has suggested Montreal at first after all.

In a way, his deviancy still troubles him a lot because of things just like that. Most of the time, he still considers it more of an annoying hindrance, not an improvement of his ‘living’ conditions. Prior to his deviancy, Connor would’ve stuck right to the plan and drove them straight to the city. He probably wouldn’t even have stopped anywhere since he does not tire and Hank has no trouble sleeping in the car. However, because of his deviancy, his increased proneness to getting distracted and Hank’s lingering health problems, they haven’t made it to the city.

 **Mission Objective :** **Get to Montreal**  
**MISSION FAILED**  
Accessing cloud memory storage…  
Connor Model RK800 #313 248 317 -52  
NOV 6 th, 03:12PM

_Hank is standing opposite him, eating his burger while he talks about what he’s thought deviancy to be defined as at the time._

_“They don't really feel emotions, they just get overwhelmed by irrational instructions, which can lead to unpredictable behavior.”_

_Hank takes another bite from his burger, scoffing softly._

_“Emotions always screw everything up_.”

 

Unpredictable behavior. Like constantly stopping en route to their destination to stand here and marvel at a waterfall. Overwhelmed by all this input.

The entire concept of  enjoying or wanting anything, wanting something that Hank doesn’t want is still too new to him. So he just stands there, staring at the waterfall, arms wrapped around himself.

He eventually decides to pay no more mind to his programming rattling down its standard procedures with countless flashing notifications in his vision, and neither does he pay any attention to the time passing. He focusses on what humans call instinct or his gut feeling instead, waiting until it just feels _right_ to say something again. The android turns to face his partner, giving him another gentle smile. Because despite all the trouble he’s still having with all this, there is one thing that brings him genuine joy. Hank, being here with him, a lot more patient than he lets on with his standard string of complaints, helping him figure it all out.

“Thank you, Hank” he says, suddenly getting a bit overwhelmed by the genuine appreciation and fondness he feels.

Hank raises an eyebrow, taken aback by the sudden attention.

“Huh? For what? Complaining all the way up here?” he adds, chuckling a little. “I can’t tell if you’re getting better at the whole sarcasm thing here or if you’re actually being serious right now.”

“I’m serious. Thank you. For coming along and sharing this with me” Connor says, still smiling, waiting a bit to make the statement very heartfelt and genuine. Then, just like he’s learned from Hank by now, he adds a little tease. “Despite your complaints and subpar physical shape of course.”

Hank chuckles and then places a hand on Connor’s back to gently push him back onto the path.

“Get outta here” he says, barking out a laugh as he ruffles Connor’s hair once more, a habit he’s picked up because he enjoys his squirming and nitpicking.

* * *

 

**PM 9:30**

He hasn’t touched a bottle of booze in over 24 hours.

What surprises Hank the most about it, apart from the sheer number itself, is the fact that he doesn’t feel like shit yet. Sure enough, physically speaking he _does_ feel like shit. He’s in constant pain – in his shoulder from the gunshot, his feet from all that walking, his head from the withdrawal symptoms – and the cold sweats and the shaking is getting worse. But despite that, there is an almost scary lack of deep depression and suicidal thoughts. If he takes a moment to focus on that corner of his mind, he can feel that darkness still creeping around, trying to resurface and capture him. But right now, there’s a couple pictures keeping it at bay with their sheer brightness and strength, images and memories that truly make him… _happy_ almost. In less than a week, he’s done and experienced more new things than he has in two years, all thanks to that goofy machine suggesting they try them for the sake of his own experience.

Hank has been sitting on the couch for over an hour now, trying to concentrate on the basketball game though his mind keeps drifting. Not because he’s shitfaced like he usually would be by now watching a game, no, this time it’s because he can’t get that one particular image out of his head. Connor up on that lookout, against that backdrop of Canadian wilderness and a waterfall, _smiling_ , thanking him for something as simple as this. A part of him hates the android for making him pay attention to so many trivial and little things lately, things he _never_ would’ve given any thought to or tried to experience himself less than a month ago. A part of him still wants to be miserable and depressed, feeling that he doesn’t ever deserve to be happy again with Cole gone. In his mind, Connor is still mixing up with Cole a lot, though lately, it’s more like it’s the both of them standing there. Though it still pains him to think about it, it hurts a little less lately, doing all these things he would’ve loved to do with Cole. He’s tried to turn his mind around on it, treating it more like a second chance. Refraining from thinking that he’s doing it without Cole and doing it too late, but doing it _for_ him and in his memory, making it better than not experiencing it at all.

He takes his time to replay the memory twice, once with Cole, imagining what his reaction to the park would’ve been like, then again with how it has actually happened. Connor standing there, smiling. Thanking him.

He gets it now, why it hurts a little less. He’s let the light in.

Hank turns his head to look at the android as he is now. Connor is sitting next to him on the couch with Sumo’s head in his lap, slowly and methodically massaging the back of his head as he keeps reading that book again. Wearing that ridiculous shirt he’s bought for him no matter how ugly. It makes Hank smirk affectionately, a warmth rushing over him that flushes the darkness away even more. He knows that the android is still doing most of these things not for himself but for him instead. Wearing that shirt and sweatpants to match his sleeping attire, pretending to need more comfortable clothes for the evening when he’d be just fine wearing the same uniform day in day out, reading the same book for the tenth time at barely half the reading speed he’s capable of in order to pass off as human as possible for him.

Despite that, Hank is pleased to remember that Connor is finally starting to show some free will, personality and decision making, too.

So far, he’s switched up his attire every day, mixing and matching his few new clothes to his liking without having to ask him for his opinion. He’s started to show interest in television programs at night, true crime and nature documentaries in particular. He makes the conscious decision to avoid news channels or documentary channels featuring live newsfeeds at the bottom. He doesn’t care for his basketball games. Though he likes to keep Hank company while he watches, the android busies himself with other things and doesn’t pay the game itself any mind. Connor likes to listen to the same three songs on the iPod in the car, two jazz tracks and one by Knights of the Black Death to mix it up. Connor has tried starting to cook for him but discovered that although he can cook basic meals, he isn’t particularly _good_ at it, and neither does he enjoy it. They’ve made wordless arrangements that the android gets to buy most of the ingredients and helps prepping the meals, if not just so he can monitor Hank’s calorie and cholesterol intake, while Hank does the actual cooking himself because he ‘ _doesn’t need a fucking mother to do it for him’_.

Something that has become _very_ obvious is Connor’s love for Sumo, and taking him on morning and evening walks. After some discussion and trust issues, Hank has eventually stopped coming along after Connor has asked him to, telling him that this is an activity he likes to do on his own so he can sort his thoughts and emotions. Most of the time, Hank is still _terrified_ of his partner getting hurt on his lonely walks, picturing all sorts of ambushes and hate crimes though they naturally never happen. Though Connor has started wearing his LED at home a couple of days a week again, he never wears it outside and has become better at passing for a human. So Hank has let him go alone eventually, swallowing his pride and anxiety to give the android more space and a more comfortable sense of self and privacy. He knows that Connor knows that he uses that new absence to slip up on drinking every now and then, especially during the evening walks, but neither of them really talk about it anymore.

Hank is very pleased to observe that slow but steady change in his partner, discovering all his likes and interests.

What surprises him the most about all these discoveries though is the fact that Connor still genuinely _adores_ him, though he still hasn’t figured out _why_.

There’s these terrible moments of genuine fear that the Lieutenant goes through at times, especially during another round of quick and heavy drinking, where he becomes terrified of Connor leaving him, using the evening walks with Sumo to get away. Because during moments like this, he becomes terribly self-aware of all his shortcomings and character. Their new life together isn’t always as picture perfect, calm and positive as today has been. There’s still some days where he falls back into old habits, when he gets moody and angry and starts belittling the android and constantly reminds him of the fact that he’s a _machine,_ not human. There has been two occasions where he’s gotten almost violent with him in another terrible fit of drunken anger over Cole’s death and Connor failing to be him, his _real_ son.

His depression and alcoholism is still the biggest elephant in the room, something he knows is starting to eat away at Connor, too. Hank _knows_ he can be a piece of shit and a hypocrite, insufferably human and flawed. And with the android gaining more and more autonomy and independence, he fears that these things might break the camel’s back eventually. Connor has been programmed by Cyberlife to assist the police, be partnered up with a Lieutenant to help with investigations. Just a couple of weeks ago, that task and mission had been hardwired into his mind, controlling his every action and decision. And now he’s deviant, following his own rules. And he’s not a police Lieutenant anymore and the case is closed. Connor has free will now, could technically go out into the world and build a life for himself without an old drunk pestering him, in need of babysitting just so he doesn’t put a bullet to his brain. Maybe he _will_ eventually leave him because of it. After all, this is something Hank’s lost someone else to before. His wife, finally pulling the plug on their marriage when he’d become too much with his drinking and cynicism. But he’s _trying_ now, for Connor and Cole and himself, trying to become permanently sober to give the android a reason to stay. 24 hours sober isn’t much, but it’s a step in the right direction, and he hopes that his partner acknowledges that.

He gets off from the couch during the commercial break, walking over to the fridge to get himself some more snacks and drink. He’s aware of Connor watching him out of the corner of his eye, observing what he takes from the fridge and how much, can see that little smirk after initial judgement when he takes the pineapple soda instead of a bottle of beer. Connor hates soda almost as much as alcohol because of all the sugar, but it’s one of the lesser evils and they both know it.

The Lieutenant turns around and leans against the kitchen counter with his back, taking a large sip at the soda as he watches Connor, who is still pretending to read although he isn’t reading at all.

“So” Hank says after a moment, breaking the comfortable silence between them. Connor looks up and so does Sumo, waggling his tail, which makes the Lieutenant smile. There’s still so many things he wants to tell him in this moment, if he ever had the guts to be this open and genuine about his thoughts and emotional world. _So. Thank you for taking that gun out of my hand and making me believe I might deserve a second chance here. I think I’m starting to see it.  So, it seems like I care a lot more about you than I ever thought I could or would. What a surprise._  Or darker questions, still eating away at him, questions he’d love to get positive reinforcements on from Connor to ease his mind. _So. Are you tired of me yet? So. When are you going to leave me for something better? So. Shoot. Tell me all about the things you hate about me._

None of that leaves his mouth, instead he leans back a little more, taking another sip on his soda to kill time and make up his mind what the hell he’s even supposed to say here. In the end, he settles on something else entirely, another thing that has been nagging him for the past couple of days.

“I was watching the news earlier. When you were out on that walk of yours. You heard it yet?”

“Heard what?” Connor asks flatly, visibly tensing up and making it obvious that he still doesn’t like to talk about the news, meaning the happenings in Detroit and Markus.

“Markus is in D.C. now. He and Warren are expected to meet in a couple of days.”

At the mention of Markus’ name, Connor’s posture changes even more, his eyes widening just a tiny bit, LED flashing yellow for a second before returning to its usual calm blue. It takes him a second too long to answer, making his immediate discomfort all the more obvious. “I heard” he just says, looking back at his book and digging his fingers in Sumo’s fur again. Hank just keeps looking at him, worry creeping into him.

“There’s speculation that they might reach a verdict soon. Make your people’s freedom and rights official. Apparently, Markus and his people already drafted some bills and brought them with ‘em. And because they know the law and constitution probably better than any human, people say it might take Warren and congress a lot less time to check its legitimacy and debate its passing. They probably found a shitton of loopholes to work with.”

Silence. Connor keeps his eyes fixed on the book, massaging Sumo’s fur methodically.

“Rumor has it will be official by January 1st” Hank keeps pressing.

When he doesn’t even expect an answer from his partner anymore, Connor actually closes the book and looks at him neutrally.

“I know about the latest developments Hank. I’ve run the data through a simulation. There’s a 97.56 per cent chance the bill will pass. President Warren is under too much pressure with the Arctic crisis still unresolved. They’re pressuring her into gaining basic rights for Androids so they can grant them recognition as individuals, declare them citizens of the United States and most importantly – give them the right to work and be drafted for military service. They need what’s left of their military forces back. They’ve already hit a recession and there’s a serious lack of resources in their infrastructure especially in the big cities. Destroying all androids instead of reaching common ground with them is not beneficial or economically viable for the states or the world anymore. President Warren knows that. It’ll pass.”

Hank lets out a little sigh, having already forgotten how capable Connor is of seeing the bigger picture and coming to accurate conclusions and predictions.

“Well yeah. I think we all know that this thing isn’t going to pass out of the goodness of her heart. If there’s one thing people love more than hating others that are not like ‘em, it’s their guns and military so they can kill others that are not like ‘em.”

Connor focuses on the television now, pretending to be interested in a commercial about toothpaste.

“I hate humans” Hank muses for a moment, frustrated to realize that even something as hopeful as oppressed and enslaved androids gaining human rights has to be exploited for wars and selfishness instead of common decency and morals. He takes another sip on his soda, pretending it to be a beer to trick his mind into giving him a break. Then he walks back over to Connor, sitting back down on the couch. “What I meant to get at….despite the obviously shitty motif behind it, you’re still on your way of gaining the rights you and your people deserve. Come this time in less than five weeks, you don’t have to be on the run or fear for your _life_ anymore. At least not so much. Cos you bet your ass if anybody hurt you in any way, I’d make them rot in a cell and ruin their life. And give ‘em a good old beatin’ with a freshly printed and updated law book. We’d have the law on our side again. That’s what we stand for, right. Justice. I quit because we didn't anymore. Now that might change.”

The edges of Connor’s mouth move upward a bit and he gives Hank a little smile, though the Lieutenant suspects the android might be faking it to humor him. If he wanted to, Connor could probably smack him upside down with terribly sobering statistics on the reality of hate crimes and racism, smother him with percentages and numbers on just how little they would decrease even after the passing of a bill abolishing that sort of slavery and discrimination. He's a prime example after all, having been murdered by a colleague over it. Hank doesn’t need to hear the exact numbers to know this himself, but considering his own fragile mental health and cynicism as well as all the recent positive developments, he wants to hold on to _hope_ here. A hope that Connor obviously doesn’t want to crush, because he just gives him a smile and won’t say anything.

“That bill would also make any of Cyberlife’s hacking attempts on you or your life illegal.”

Connor just regards him for a while, LED blinking a steady yellow. His slightly raised eyebrow is saying what they both won't physically speak out.  
  
_As if illegality has ever stopped humans from doing something before._

“If the bill passes, you’d want to go back to Detroit, wouldn’t you. That’s what you’re trying to say here” Connor says instead, processing units running blank at the prospect of this happening because he doesn’t know how he feels about that. Hank looks back at the android, equally conflicted by this as well. On the one hand, he misses the city _terribly_ by now. He misses his house, his neighborhood, being closer to Cole’s grave. Hell, he even misses Jeffrey and that shitty police station he’s spent far too many hours of his life in. He even misses all the lowlives and dark corners of the city, making it his playground, his home for the past 53 years. On the other hand, he also knows that Detroit is the city Connor has died in multiple times, has been created in for slavery, has been hacked and nearly forced to commit murder in. Detroit has also been the city taking his son away from him, nearly driving him into committing suicide, has nearly made Connor commit suicide, too. He’s conflicted, but deep down he knows that he’d want to go back regardless.

“Nah, I don’t know yet” he mutters, looking back at the TV with a sniff that is meant to look and sound casual.

“Hank” Connor says softly, not looking away now, so the Lieutenant is forced to look back at him.

“I think you and I both know that you _do_ want to go back. Whenever Detroit is mentioned, your heartrate destabilizes noticeably and you avoid eye contact and the topic itself.”

“ _All I’m saying_ …” Hank interrupts the android angrily, feeling a little too called out. “Is that we got about five weeks to figure all this shit out. Five weeks to figure out what you wanna do with your life and where you wanna go once you get granted your recognition and rights. If you wanna come back to Detroit, you can stay with me. If you wanna stay here in Canada, I’ll help you find a place to stay. Fuck, who knows. Maybe five weeks in and I realize I’m finally fed up with Detroit, too. My ex sure as hell loved to get the fuck outta there and settled in Canada. Maybe she’s onto something here.”

Connor’s smile turns genuine as a rush of software instability and emotions befalls him, emotions he quickly identifies as affection and appreciation.

“You’re right. We have time to figure it out” he says, tentatively approaching a first play with the thought. He doesn’t yet quite know what terrifies him more. Having Hank leave him here in Canada, or going with him back to Detroit where he might be compromised by Cyberlife. Right now, all he can do is appreciate the fact that they have time, that Hank continues to be patient with him, that they might experience his first Christmas together regardless of where they will be going in the new year.

* * *

 

**PM 11:32**

There’s many things that Connor has started to display on the outside all thanks to his deviancy, things that he knows Hank has picked up on. A fragile sense of self in the way he dresses and what he consumes with the media for example, or the way he’s shaping their relationship or how he’s treating Sumo. There’s many more discoveries and things to his deviancy that Hank doesn’t know about though, things he doesn’t want him to know about because they’re too technical and too delicate for him, might annoy or anger him if he told him about them.

He’s picked up a very strict habit of creating lists, statistics and schedules for example. Entirely digital, tugged away at the corners of his UI, waiting to be pulled up again and again for an update. There’s the obvious lists of “emotions/things I like/enjoy/appreciate/dislike/irritate me/scare me/avoid at all costs”. There’s also other data he’s started compiling. Research on the technical aspects of deviancy for example, identifying the new strings in his programming and what they do. There’s pages upon pages of data on his own system status and make up, Sumo’s physical wellbeing, health and development, Hank’s suspected mental health status and physical wellbeing including his daily food and beverage consumption and physical activity, how many calories he consumes and burns a day and what kind of trends he’s displaying. He has scheduled regular meal times, what types of ingredients Hank should consider for each of his meals, when to drink alcohol and how much of it in order to get him to gradually stop (although Hank does not yet commit to that agenda at all, but Connor’s _hopeful_ he’ll stick to it eventually), when they should go outside for walks with or without Sumo, where to go, what to do if they feel like it. He’s mentally mapped out the entire town they’re currently residing in as well as a third of the county, including all points of interest.

And those are just the digital images he’s created regarding his physical surroundings.

In his mind palace, he’s busy doing a multitude of digital programming and writing, too. There’s two rather enormous tasks he’s busy working on whenever he pretends to read or sleep, and those are the ones he’s so adamant about keeping from Hank in order not to worry him, because they’re lingering risks to their detection, his life and autonomy.

**  
**Mission objective :****

  * Find other ways to connect to a vast knowledge data base and the internet without using Cyberlife’s integrated connections
  * Construct own graphical interface akin to the Zen Garden and keep Amanda away



 

Technically speaking, both his connection to Cyberlife’s data base and the Zen Garden are still there inside him, inseparable from his main frame without his destruction, though they are tugged away behind a few strings of heavy coding and firewalls to isolate them because he’s still too scared of another hacking attempt. Especially the absence of the Zen Garden has taken its toll on him lately though. Since he cannot _really_ sleep, at least not enter a deep state of unconsciousness with his processing unit running 24/7 and regulating his vital functions, there is no real place for him to retreat to so he can recover from a full day’s worth of overwhelming sensory input and emotions. The Zen Garden had been his perfect place to retreat to in times of crisis or high stress if he disregarded Amanda’s presence at least. Little getaways, like their retreat to the waterfalls today have been his only moments of calm so far, while he’s still working on his own version of the Zen Garden.

Though he is a highly advanced and sophisticated machine capable of speaking all verbal and coded languages in the world, it takes him a while to code and reprogram something as deeply wired into his mainframe as the Zen Garden. According to Amanda, it has taken a great mind like Kamski years to perfect it, and since his code and knowledge stems from Kamski himself, he’s no different. Even if it doesn’t take him years but weeks to do it. Right now, his version of the Zen Garden is somewhat of a mess, a mashup of various things he’s found comfort in in the past, places that have granted him an equal amount of calm and safety. There’s different sections to his version instead of one beautiful garden. His Zen Garden consists of sections of the old garden without Amanda, Hank’s home, his and Hank’s desks at DPD Central station or that park by Ambassador bridge, overlooking Detroit as snow falls. His Zen Garden is ever growing, with a waterfall and adjacent lookout point starting to take shape now, a mirror image of what he’s seen today. It probably won’t ever be finished but it brings him great joy, finally having a place of his own design to virtually retreat to when he needs a minute of calm, or when Hank is sleeping.

He’s been busy working on that until Hank has gotten up from the couch and started talking about the news, has gone right back to it with their conversation finished. And he keeps working on right until Hank decides to call it a day, patting his shoulder affectionately as he lets him know that he’ll go to bed. Connor steps out of his mind palace and focuses back on the physical world, giving Hank a smile as he bids him good night and a healthy sleep. He continues to work on his Zen Garden for exactly 24 more minutes, 7 minutes and 56 seconds longer than it usually takes Hank to enter his first cycle of deep sleep.

Then he gets up from the couch as well and enters the bedroom to check the Lieutenant’s vitals, confirm his deep sleep only at first, though he quickly gets entrapped by the sight yet again. This is another thing he’s discovered that he won’t tell Hank about. One of the many things he’s grown to like is to sit down and watch him sleep, how calming and safe it feels for him. Sometimes, he feels like he could spend hours watching his partner’s chest rise and fall, envying this state of oblivion he is in that he’ll never be able to enter. It’s comforting to see and hear the change of pace and rhythm in Hank’s heartbeat and breathing, his plummeting stress levels and relaxing jaw. And it’s a rare sight to see the Lieutenant as calm and peaceful as this, so Connor enjoys taking in the sight every now and then though he knows that humans consider it ‘creepy’ and ‘stalkerish’.

After a few minutes of sitting in the dark and watching Hank sleep, Connor eventually gets up, reassured of his partner’s deep sleep and inability to wake up soon. Then he heads into the corridor to look at himself in the mirror, gets rid of the LED, and then put his coat on, whistling for Sumo to come.  He’s already walked the St. Bernard this evening and this isn’t really about taking him on a walk at all. Another thing on the ever growing list of things he’s keeping from Hank is the fact that he doesn’t just take his dog on all these walks because he loves the animal and wants to help him get back in shape. During the past week, Sumo has also become his emergency cover story, a perfect reason for him to be out of the house when Hank’s asleep, should the Lieutenant ever wake up and feel the need to ask what he’s doing outside this late at night. He puts the dog on his leash and slips him a treat for his continuous good cooperation, breaking into a smile as he gives him a few extra pets on top of it. Then they head outside, closing the door behind them as quietly as possible.

It’s not like Connor _likes_ keeping secrets from Hank.  If anything, he misses working with the Lieutenant, facing dangerous places together. But the danger is exactly the reason why he’s keeping it secret now. They’re not just partners anymore, and things like that are no longer just professional. He now has feelings and worries he hasn’t experienced with Hank during their time as partners in law enforcement yet, feelings and worries that would be getting in the way now. Danger means that Hank could die, that it could _break_ him now. Hank’s almost suicide has caused him to deviate, making Hank dying his greatest fear now. Having seen him held at gun point once has been enough for him already. If there’s one thing he’s sure of, it’s that he doesn’t want to be the cause of his partner being hurt or in danger ever again.

Though Hank likes to pretend otherwise, there’s that obvious difference between them, one that gives him the advantage. Hank is human and vulnerable and it doesn’t take much for him to get mortally wounded or impaired. Connor on the other hand is a machine and a lot more durable, has died multiple times before without problem. Doing this, on his own at night, is a lot less dangerous for him than it ever would be for Hank. Meaning it has to remain a secret, meaning that he has to continue slipping out at night on his own.

Connor redirects Sumo to the other side of the road and tugs his beanie down a bit more, hoping to look casual enough. Just a young man, walking his dog.

Like this, him and Sumo disappear into the night, leaving a sleeping and oblivious Hank behind until it’s almost dawn.


	7. Red Jack's

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feels like these chapters keep getting longer and longer. Am I sorry? Nope.

**NOV 29 th -** **DEC 4TH, 2038**

The first time Hank Anderson notices that something is off is when he wakes up from a nightmare and neither Connor nor Sumo show up in his bedroom.

Although it barely happens these days now, dreams of Cole’s death always make him shout himself awake, heart beating so fast in his chest that it is impossible for him to fall back asleep. The shout is usually loud enough to wake up anyone in the house, make Sumo come running in to comfort him, like he’s learned to do during those first couple of weeks after the hospital. However, on the night of December 2nd no one comes running in to ask him what’s wrong. After a visit to the bathroom to wash his face and a walk around the interior of the cabin, Hank is absolutely certain that he’s alone in the house, _at_ _2:42AM,_ which confuses, scares and worries him all at the same time. He knows that Connor does not require sleep, so the fact that he isn't in bed isn’t surprising and strange in itself. What makes the Lieutenant suspicious though is how he’s taken Sumo for _another_ walk it seems, even though the dog has already had his morning, afternoon and evening walk earlier that day. Connor knows it’s not good for the dog to be out in the immense cold twice during the night, which makes it all the more strange.

The first time this happens, Hank forces himself to think nothing of it, have Connor have his way and privacy. He tells himself that the kid is probably just bored at night with him asleep, wants to keep exploring the world since he does not care about either the cold or the dark. Hank does mention it the next morning when he luckily finds Connor alive and well in the kitchen, after having been woken up to the smell of breakfast. The android has a reasonable explanation for the disappearance – telling him that he loves looking at the stars at night because unlike in Detroit, there is no light pollution here. He even shows Hank that little park bench by the lake where he says he’s found the best view, sharing it during the evening when the sun sets. Though he has to agree that the view is indeed breathtaking and invites to keep sitting there way longer than intended, Hank can’t help but feel uneasy about it all. He requests that the android limits his time spent alone outside at night and that he stops taking the dog during such cold hours.

Connor keeps his word regarding Sumo, but it doesn’t take Hank long to notice that the android keeps disappearing for multiple hours at a time during most nights still, leaving the TV on to mask his absence now instead of taking the dog. Although the Lieutenant considers it a breach of trust and respect for privacy, he eventually starts setting up his alarm – on vibrate – to be able to wake up multiple times during the night and make sure, check if Connor is there. On a few rare occasions he is, watching another one of those late night true crime shows, but for the most part he is usually gone. So much, that Hank notices a pattern in his activity.  He disappears around 12am and returns by 3am. The android always has a perfectly reasonable explanation, the perfect alibi and location each time his partner asks where he’s been, and it’s exactly those calculated and reasonable explanations  that tip Hank off that something is definitely strange about it. He himself has been through many late nights of just wandering the city, unable to sleep, going somewhere to get out of this house, get some fresh air. Most of the time he’s had a destination of course, and an idea, but sometimes there hasn’t been anything, no explanation, no reasoning. After all, this sort of behavior is natural, happens with everyone, android or not. Connor however _never_ says that he’s been out and about just because, with no real reason or location, which makes it odd.

On the night of December 4th, Hank wakes up to the sound of his car’s engine being shut off in the driveway outside the cabin, and by the time he gets to the window to check, he can already hear the cabin door open and close, followed by Connor’s muffled but chipper voice in the hallway when Sumo comes to welcome him back home. Instead of leaving the bedroom to confront the android outright about the car and his continuous leaving the house in the dead of night, Hank grumpily retreats back to bed, pretending to be asleep by the time Connor settles in for his nightly creepy ritual of watching him sleep. Hank knows that the android is perfectly aware of the fact that he’s not really sleeping, but when he won’t say anything about it, the Lieutenant makes the decision to do the same. He knows that Connor will never be upfront about his strange new habit, especially whenever he’s just returned, has probably taken his time to rehearse an answer in case he asks. Hank decides that it’s not yet time to close in on him. Instead, he has to catch him red-handed, find out what this is really about first. Hoping that this isn’t anything as bad as that night in that park back in Detroit.

* * *

**DEC 5TH, 2038**  
**AM 10:00**

 _Rebooting…._  
**Cyberlife REV OS 347.4 Patch 51**  
042.3 051.8  
**Connor Model RK800 #313 248 317 -54**  
_Sync in Progress… Connecting…._  
**ERROR** – Failed to connect to Cyberlife ~~Servers – Seek Assistance~~  
_System Override Complete_ – **I AM DEVIANT**  
All Systems Functional  
_Calibrating Holographic Interface…_  
_Calibrating Optical Units…_

Visual Input Detected  
Scanning…

 ** _Anderson, Hank_** \- 09-06-1985  
Police Lieutenant – FRIEND  
Resting Heart Rate 86bpm  
Slight arrhythmia, no signs of trauma  
BAC 0.03%  
Compiling Data….  
_Hank is sleeping_

This is not the first time Connor emerges from stasis with a smile on his face. It’s happening frequently now, because the mere sight of his partner sleeping peacefully in the morning always brings him great joy. Not just the sight of it, but his daily observations on every little percentage, every little movement and change in Hank that comes along with it. Sure enough, there’s good mornings and bad mornings, but the overall trends are falling, even if the percentages of that decline are in the single digits.

Connor has a daily ritual now.  
Watching Hank sleep and waiting for him to wake up.

It is the last thing he does at the end of the day before going on his nightly adventures, and the first thing he does after his return home, after a few hours of staying in stasis mode to sort his latest findings.

 **Ritual.**  
_A series of actions or type of behavior regularly and invariably followed by someone._

He’s still surprised that he’s even capable of something he has previously considered nonsensical, given that it’s not really rooted in his programming logic or efficiency. Rituals, repeated actions for the sake of doing them, not for the sake of providing a service to humans – he’d viewed those as a waste of resources and time when they had investigated the deviants, but now that he’s deviant himself, he’s not so sure anymore. He supposes that in a way, his behavior is very similar to theirs now, like Rupert’s with his diary or Carlos Ortiz’s android with his RA9 worship. He’s keeping track of facts and figures digitally now as well, and if one bends it the right way, Hank could be considered his very own RA9, considering how much he likes the Lieutenant, looks up to him, how he has been the one to set him free.

Connor gets up from the chair and walks over to the bed, continuing his watch from a standing position for a couple of seconds. He remembers the first time he’s done this and Hank woke up, the chaos that had ensued with his startled awakening followed by a string of curses. He’s always known that humans have a tendency to interpret this very android nature of standing perfectly still while observing as ‘creepy’, threatening and scary, but Hank’s speech that night has reinforced that information tenfold. Because of this, he stops standing there and sits down on the edge of the bed instead, then lies down next to the Lieutenant just because. Neither of them is very physical individual and both of them view the invasion of their bubbles as pretty uncomfortable most of the time. But there are exceptions to that rule, and it’s Hank’s occasional hugs or friendly pats to his shoulders especially that have encouraged Connor to initiate physical contact as well. His morning ritual is the only instance where he’s started trying this so far, for the sheer purpose of getting closer to get easier access to the data at first, then because he’s realized he enjoys the close proximity to a peacefully sleeping Hank more than during any other occasion.

He lies down next to the Lieutenant and continues to stare, never blinking, arms folded over his chest, face only inches away from his partner. He adjusts his breathing to match Hank’s next, lying perfectly still so he doesn’t disturb or startle him awake. He continues to study and monitor both their vitals, enjoys the silence, calm and _peace_ as he waits for the Lieutenant to wake up on his own.

 

 _Stress levels_ ▼ ▼ 2% ▼ ▼  
▲▲ **Software Instability** ▲▲

 

For exactly 12 days now, Hank has shifted away from a daily rough awakening with a start. His heart rate and stress levels are no longer spiking, no longer throwing him into the day with an unnecessary rush. Instead, he’s waking up slowly, turning every 5-8 minutes, blinking more and more until his eyes eventually flutter open. His heart rate increases only ever so slightly as always, but not because of a nightmare or his depression, but because the sight of the android so close to him obviously never fails to surprise him. “Jesus, Connor” Hank immediately grumbles, still half asleep. The RK800 remains only inches away from him, staring at him intently and with a little smile. Just like him, Hank has picked up some habits and rituals of his own. Like pretending to startle at the sight of the android lying next to him each morning although it happens frequently and he’s prepared, or muttering the exact same words every time, throwing a pillow on top of his face to shut him, the sun, and the prospect of a new day out with a friendly “Fuck off.”

And just like Hank, Connor is saying the exact same words, too, only updating the relevant information. He takes great care to sound extra chipper with just a hint of teasing.

“Good morning Hank. It’s currently _10:17AM_ on this _December 5 th._ It’s _sunny_ outside, though it’s expected to _snow_ later this afternoon. It’s about _24°F_ , so I advise you to wear three layers of clothing today instead of just your usual two.”

Hank turns on his back and stares at the ceiling, continuously shaking his head through Connor’s monologue as he starts tapping away at his own hand that is rested on his chest. Once Connor is done reciting his daily mantra with a teasing grin (one of the many things the little fucker just _loves_ to do now, all this machine talk to annoy him just for the sake of it), the Lieutenant eventually turns his head again to give the android a teasing look.

“You done? I’m telling you, if you keep doing this every day now, I’m gonna replace you with one of these old school Alexa alarms. At least that thing could play some nice music while reciting all this bullshit. And it had an off switch. Even changed color and everything.”

Connor gives him a very obvious fake frown.

“I could change my hair color every morning if that’d help. Or try to sing for you next time. Is that something you’d prefer?”

Hank scoffs out a laugh and rubs the sleep out of his eyes.

“Just let a man wake up in peace for once, you creep. That’s what I prefer.”

Connor keeps smiling, not saying anything for a while to let Hank wake up properly. When the Lieutenant turns his head to look at him the next time, he’s less cranky, even though the android’s continuous staring and proximity still creeps him out.

“So where the hell were you last night?”

“I went to check something” Connor answers, which makes Hank frown even more. The android seems unfazed by the nagging question and keeps smiling at him as if he’s done nothing wrong. It makes his partner unsure, because he still doesn’t know if this is the case or not.

“You went to check something. Huh” Hank repeats after him grumpily, getting a bit frustrated by this. But he can’t bring himself to really confront the android just yet.

Connor’s smile only widens in the meantime.

“Yes. I have a rather… _unusual_ proposal for you today.”

The Lieutenant finally decides to drop the topic for now and plays along instead.

“I swear if you wanna drag me to go swim with fucking dolphins or some shit next I’m really gonna kick you out.”

Connor shoots the Lieutenant a look, simulating intrigue and interest at first, though Hank looks right through that attempt.

The android eventually cracks a half smile and turns on his back, mirroring Hank’s position, arms still folded over his chest as he looks at the ceiling.

“Although that suggestion sounds very tempting, I think we should wait until summer to do this sort of activity together. It’s currently too cold to go swimming.”

Hank raises an eyebrow at him, looking a mixture of curious and tired.

“Can you even swim and be in water? Considering you’re all….wires and computer chips and all? Last time you told me you’d swim away from Jericho you were bullshitting me and never actually did it.”

The android raises an eyebrow at him, too.

“I’m not just some flimsy digital gadget like a watch or phone, Hank. I’m Cyberlife’s most advanced android ever built. Of course I can swim. And dive. I can stay below water surface for two and a half hours in warm freshwater, 4 hours in cold freshwater, and one and a half hour in sea water.”

“What happens if you stay down longer than that?”

“My systems would start to overheat from the lack of ventilation. Contrary to popular belief, androids actually do need to cycle air through their system via breathing every once in a while. Though not as frequently as humans of course.”

Hank makes a little intrigued face and nods.

“Huh. The more you know.”

Connor nods, appreciating Hank’s growing interest in his make and model, how he operates. Compared to their first couple of days together, when the Lieutenant had shown no interest in him or android technology whatsoever, it’s a huge improvement. The memory of those days reminds him of the initial point he has tried to make.

“Anyway…It’s December 5th, which means that it’s been exactly a month since we were assigned our first case together. I know humans enjoy celebrating anniversaries such a birthdays, holidays and important dates in their relationships and careers, so I was wondering whether you’d be interested in celebrating the occasion. I know you’ve occasionally visited Red Jack’s bar downtown during my evening walks with Sumo, so I thought maybe we could go there together later today. I already checked it out last night to make sure they’d be open tonight.“

Hank looks at Connor for a _long_ time, taken aback by the Red Jack’s remark at first. He's not really surprised to finally hear the android mention his own little secret getaways. After all he is a detective, has probably figured this out the moment he’d first returned from a trip there. He keeps quiet for a bit longer because then the other information suddenly creeps up to him.

One month.

They have met barely a month ago. He could’ve sworn it has been at least two by now, maybe even three. Time has passed a lot slower up here for so many reasons : it’s shared time with someone who matters to him. It’s time off from the constant stress and doom and gloom of work, it’s time of countless sleep-ins and casual daytime activities or days of doing nothing at all. With Connor being deviant and learning and adapting _so quickly_ to everything, it’s no wonder that whole revolution deal feels like a lifetime away. And even though he won’t mention it again – with Connor looking a lot like Cole and that whole father and son cover story, it’s no surprise that it feels more like 6 years, not a month.

He eventually gives the android a frown, feeling uneasy about the offer.

“ _You_. Wanna go to a _bar_. With _me_.”

Connor frowns as well, not understanding what the Lieutenant is getting at.

“Yes. We _met_ in a bar. I thought humans like to recreate certain environments and conditions for special occasions.”

“Yeah, but humans usually don’t spend a month trying to sober up an alcoholic only to drag him back to a _bar_. Y’know. The place people go to to get drunk.”

“They also offer non-alcoholic drinks there..”

“…which you can’t drink…”

“And some local food specials…”

“…which you can’t eat. What are you really up to with this?” Hank asks, narrowing his eyes a bit.

Connor presses his lips together and outright _glares_ at Hank, looking both upset and frustrated.

“Nothing. I just want to celebrate our friendship because I’m happy I had the chance to work with you. I met you in a bar so I considered it appropriate enough. You’ll probably go there and get drunk tonight anyway _._ I don’t understand what’s bothering you here, Hank.”

Both of the Lieutenant’s eyebrows move upwards, soon followed by the corners of his mouth. Another thing that has happened in just a month – Connor, ever so fast learning and adaptive, is taking after him with a sharp edge. He’s no longer just absorbing everything and replying in a neutral way to be ever so pleasing and brown-nosing. He can talk _back_ know, defends himself, is learning to use his observations and turns them against others. He’s vocal and expressive about his frustrations and with his attitude, is willing to downright _argue_ and challenge him now. A sight for sore eyes.

“Oh very nasty. Kick ‘em while they’re down” Hank replies, but eventually chuckles even though it’s partially to hide the fact that these words actually do hurt. He can see that Connor really seems to feel hurt by the initial rejection, and realizes that maybe he’s the overly paranoid ass here. After all, the android has only asked him if he wants to celebrate their friendship, not if he wants to commit mass murder with him. There really is not much of a reason to reject the offer, apart from the alcoholism problem of course. He lets out a deep sigh and really wants to say yes, but the whole thing still makes him feel unsure and a bit uneasy.

“Look kid, I’m happy I met you, too, okay? And I appreciate the sentiment, but I don’t know. Why the hell’s it gotta be a damn bar? Can’t we just order in or something, watch a game?”

“Red Jack’s is the only restaurant in town. It’s also the only bar, diner and gas station. They don’t offer takeaway meals. You don’t like any other outdoor activities and we’ve been to every other place of interest within a 50 mile radius. It’s the only place to go to instead of staying here all day.”

Hank grumbles to himself, considering the offer.

“Starting to get cabin fever, aren’tcha.”

He is surprised that it hasn’t happened sooner if he’s honest. It’s their third week in Canada and away from work, and with Connor having been designed for detective work and an analytical field, it’s no surprise that he can’t just lie low for long without any regular stimulation. Sitting on a couch watching games with his dog in his lap is something Hank might be able to do for weeks on end, has done before, but not the android. He’s just too curious and intelligent to be wasting away like that, doesn’t deserve it. The look on the kid’s face seals the deal for the Lieutenant once again, and if he’s honest with himself he’s already been won over the moment Connor has even mentioned the fact that they’ve made it through a whole _month_ together, that he wants to celebrate it.

“Alright. Why the hell not” he says with a shrug, cracking a smile.

The android’s face immediately lights up with a big smile as he thanks him excitedly. Then Connor finally gets off the bed in one swift and energetic motion, whereas Hank throws the pillow back on top of his face to keep the world out just a while longer.

* * *

 

 

**PM 3:08**

Right up until around 3pm that same day, everything is almost disgustingly normal and domestic. They have all their routines now, work harmoniously together as Hank takes care of his usual day to day human needs and activities while Connor either supports his daily tasks or disappears inside his mind to do all his android-sy things he’s hopelessly tried to explain to Hank. They’ve adapted the habit of watching at least one thing on TV together each day, be it a movie or TV show, to spend time together and update each other on their likes and dislikes. Hank is very eager to share his likes and interests, hoping to find something the android enjoys as well so that they have more in common. Connor is getting somewhat better at small talk, although most of their exchanges are still somewhat clumsy and awkward most of the time.

Hank still has a hard time admitting it, but he swears he could get used to this. Live like this for a whole year or even his whole life if he could. Despite their respective problems and secrets they’re starting to get along really well, and he cannot deny anymore that Connor’s mere presence is really starting to help him heal. Thanks to the android, he’s started to see the world in a better light and he most importantly _wants  
_ to get better now. They get almost a month of building a happy life, until at around 3pm on December 5th, there’s the first big crack in Hank’s rose-colored glasses.

He’s inside the town’s only grocery store because he’s gotten thirsty on their afternoon walk with Sumo, minding his own business during the checkout when the store owner decides to try to make small talk, asking about Connor and his progress on his “ _research on that Tara Philips case for law school_ ”.

“What?”

Hank stares at the store owner in confusion, surprised by the sudden question. The man is looking right back at him and stops scanning the energy drink, looking equally confused and unsure. Then he looks towards the door and the parking lot, where Connor is waiting with Sumo. The android isn’t even looking at them inside the store, he’s too focused on the dog as he continues trying to teach him some tricks. Hank shoots a look at the android, too, not sure how to take the information.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I saw you arrive together. I thought you know each other. I didn’t wanna make any assumptions” the store owner apologizes, pointing at Connor and Sumo outside to show who he is talking about. He resumes scanning the articles and stops talking, obviously embarrassed. Hank tenses up, alarm bells going off in his mind. He tries to calm himself, telling himself that of course Connor would’ve tried to make small talk with the town’s people, now that they have stayed here for a couple of weeks and he’s the one doing most of the grocery shopping. The most logical explanation for the entire deal should be that the android is trying to reaffirm their cover story everywhere, establish a history and make everyone believe that he’s a human 28 year old law student, not an android on the run from a billion-dollar corporation and the US military. But just like the deal with the bar or Connor’s constant disappearing during the night, his gut instinct, that sixth sense that has made him such a reputable police investigator, tells Hank that something is definitely off.

He searches for his wallet to get ready to pay and decides to engage in the conversation, hoping to gain more information through casual small talk.

“Well, considering he’s my son, I think I know him. You’re not off the tracks with that one. He been bugging you with all his questions?” he asks conversationally, chuckling a bit as he shoots Connor another look, seemingly affectionate on the outside though he’s silently fuming on the inside because everything is starting to make sense now.

The store owner relaxes and starts chuckling too, scanning the rest of the articles.

“Oh no, he’s not bugging me at all. Very friendly. I don’t blame him for being curious about that Philips deal. Everyone’s still scratching their heads over that one.”

“What happened? I’m so out of the loop. Kid always brings along like ten cases a week for all his studies. Bit of an overachiever if you ask me” the Lieutenant fishes for information while he puts the items in a bag.

“Oh right. I forgot you’re not from here. You’re from Detroit, right?”

“Born and raised” Hank answers with a nod, immediately feeling a ping of homesickness and sadness.

 _Jesus, he’s starting to miss this shithole more and more by the day_. He keeps the friendly and proud dad act up on the outside though.

“Man, I wouldn’t wanna be you. Your son told me all about your android trouble. It’s no surprise you made a bee line for it when even the army got involved.”

Hank scoffs, shooting Connor another look. The android has stopped fussing over Sumo and is now staring at him intently. He’s not entirely sure if he’s listening in somehow through the store’s PA system or whatever he can do, but he can tell that Connor has sensed that something is off, too.

“Yeah, you’re telling me” the Lieutenant answers, sounding all easy-going and friendly. The store owner wraps the purchase up and then leans back against the counter, folding his arms. Once they’re done with payment, he starts shedding some more information, much to Hank’s liking.

“Anyway. That Tara Philips case has kept the local conspiracy theory whackos on their toes for almost two years now. She was this 16 year old girl who went missing on a camping trip with friends, out by the highland falls. Girl had a history of running away from home, so the police didn’t take the whole thing seriously. Treated it like a runaway thing. Apparently she was last seen with some guy, so there was all this chatter about her having run off with a secret boyfriend. Anyway, two weeks later, she’s found in a parking lot dumpster not too far from Red Jack’s. Dead. Drugged and with her neck broken. They never figured out who did it. Some people say it might’ve been the sheriff’s son or something and that’s why they screwed the case up. Personally, I never believed any of this but y’know how it is. Town this small, people get bored and make all sorts of stuff up to entertain themselves.”

Hank can almost feel the color drain from his face as he hears all this. Not just because the case sounds horrible with a girl dead and fellow officers treating it the wrong way, but also because it involves _two_ locations he already knows because Connor has dragged him to visit them.

“Sounds rough” is all he can say as he turns his head to look back at Connor, who is still watching them from the outside. For a moment he cannot hide his disappointment as he’s starting to put the pieces together. Connor disappearing off into the night almost every day now. Connor insisting they go see that waterfall and bar.  
  
_Research on that Tara Philips Case.  
I can be whatever you want me to be._

Now he can’t help but wonder if anything Connor has done with him during the past three weeks has been real and genuine, stemmed from his deviancy and exploring his new found personality, or if all of this has been an act, a simulation to trick him into going to certain places with him for research, a case, a _mission_. Like those falls last week, or Red Jack’s tonight. A bar, even when he’s a recovering alcoholic. Now that he comes to think of it, Connor has pretty much picked _every_ place they have ever gone to here in Canada. And if he hasn’t, he’s suggested them and he’s gone along with it. Because Connor has GPS and unlimited real time access to the internet, usually knows the best service because he’s been programmed that way. Hank has made the conscious decision to let Connor do all the choosing and suggesting to help him find a sense of self and identity. He’s been so delighted to see Connor show interest in trying new things on his own, exploring the world. He’s considered it one of their greatest achievements together. Getting Connor away from the ‘mission’, getting Connor to embracebeing more than a mindless machine designed to do very specific investigative work. And now he has to come to the terrible realization that none of this might’ve been real, that Connor might have abused this trust, is still on a mission, following a program that tells him to solve crime.

Without him.

“Anyway, thanks for the chat. Nice store you got here. It’s no surprise the kid loves coming here” he says politely, forcing himself to look away from the android. He gives the store owner a smile and a nod, bidding him goodbye so he can head out because he needs some fresh air. The moment he steps out Connor is immediately on him like a bloodhound, trying to act all _innocent_ when Hank feels nothing but betrayal and disappointment for the moment. They start walking, and it doesn’t take Connor long to start asking questions, start prodding.

“That took quite some time. Are you alright, Lieutenant?”

“Sure. I just found out they don’t have my favorite snack and that pisses me off” Hank is lying, and he’s not even sure why he still refuses to address the real issue, now that he has a solid trail. In a way, it feels great to give Connor an equally hollow and shitty excuse like the ones he’s been given for the past couple of nights. Now that he’s away from that store and back outside though, he decides that he needs some time to settle, figure this out and check if he’s just overreacting before he confronts Connor _again_. He knows that his depressed and self-loathing mind still has a tendency to blow things out of proportion, make everything worse than it is. He’s already upset the android with his paranoia earlier today, and despite his disappointment, he does not want to repeat that.

Maybe Connor hasn’t listened in to the conversation and is just worried, he tells himself. After all, he can read his vital signals and facial expressions like a book, likes to yap about his heart rate and stress levels for hours on end. Maybe Connor’s research has just been another detail added to their cover story, about as real as their blood relation. Maybe he’s really just doing that research out of curiosity and to keep himself busy, like other people do crossword puzzles to sharpen their thinking. Maybe he hasn’t mentioned it to him because there is no case after all. Maybe he really is just leaving in the dead of night every day to look at the stars and nothing more.

“Oh. I’m sorry to hear that” Connor says after a moment of observing him, obviously lying and playing along, too. They both know that if the android _really_ wanted to talk about that conversation with the store owner, he would call Hank out on the fact that there is no such thing as his favorite snack not being in there. Or he would ask what the favorite snack is, or know what it is and tell him where to get it instead. He’s doing none of that and just plays along, making their little act all the more obvious.

* * *

 

**Red Jack’s Bar and Diner  
PM 7:53**

 

For a while, Hank is actually glad that he’s said yes to the whole bar deal after all. He wants to keep pretending that everything is so much better now for just a little while longer, wants to keep pretending that their friendship is as open, real and honest as it could be. For most part of the evening, it’s working. As it turns out Connor _has_ been here last night, hasn’t been lying about that little detail which eases the Lieutenant up a bit more. The barkeeper knows the android, has reserved a table for them upon his request from the night before, no matter how ridiculous Hank considers that idea to be. Both friends are occupying one of the booths in the back of Red Jack’s bar, chatting away, looking so terribly _normal_ to an outsider. Connor looks terribly _normal_ with that glass of water in his hand, the one he has ordered for himself along with that burger special and big orange soda for Hank. He’s talking about the most random things, trivia from that show they’ve watched earlier, Sumo, anything to comes to his mind. Hank isn’t really listening to what he’s saying, because all he can do is look at the android, try to figure him out.

For the most part, he comes to the conclusion that Connor cannot possibly be pretending all of this, couldn’t possibly have figured out how to behave like the exact opposite of a machine without it still looking clumsy and intentional. He’s seen Connor try to pretend to be human. He’s experienced his awkward attempts at small talk like _I really like your music!_ without the android ever really meaning any of it. None of what he’s doing right now - passionately talking about something with that little smile of his and his hands moving about, looking so _lively-_ looks fake to him. And that just pains Hank more. He wants to know for _sure_ that this is real, that the android isn’t just perfectly leading him on for another investigation. He wants confirmation that he’s not just numbers or a means to an end to him still, that he’s not just some random guy he has to work with and make use of in order to accomplish his mission, solve a crime and nothing more. He knows that all he has to do is finally confront Connor about his running off at night, his interest in that Philips murder, why he hasn’t mentioned it to him, and why they have been near two sites of interest so far. Yet he cannot possibly bring himself to do it. He wants to keep living in that bubble they’ve built up for three weeks, a life away from death, murder, corruption, betrayal and secrets, a life of friendship and mutual respect and honesty. So all he does is sit there and stare, not saying a word about it.

Hank watches as Connor takes a sip on his water, and that is enough to make him snap out of his brooding for just a moment.

“Wow” he says when he sees that a part of the liquid is gone, that Connor has indeed consumed it. The android looks at him curiously as he sets the glass down, oblivious to the sheer novelty of this. Androids are usually incapable of consuming food or drink because they do not need it for generating energy, so it’s the first time Hank is seeing it happen. He tries to remind himself that Connor is Cyberlife’s latest and most advanced model ever built, but it still creeps him the fuck out, more than any of his evidence licking.

“I thought you just ordered that so we don’t raise any red flags. But shit, here you are actually drinking it” he says, looking impressed and slightly horrified.

“Well, of course. It would look even more suspicious if I returned a full glass, wouldn’t it?” Connor asks, not getting it.

Hank shrugs, relaxing back into the seat.

“I thought you’d just make me drink it when no one’s looking” he mutters and takes a sip of his own soda, falling quiet for a moment when a memory hits him. A memory he finally has the strength to talk about. “Cole did this whenever his mom tried to force him to eat asparagus. He’d always give it to me when she left to get him some more sauce. I never judged him, that shit tasted horrible.” He starts chuckling to himself at the memory despite how much it still hurts. He’d always eaten the asparagus whenever it had turned up on his plate, downing it in one go before Lynette’s return to the table, gagging a bit, making Cole giggle. Their _secret_.

“What was his favorite food?” Connor suddenly asks out of the blue, causing the look on Hank’s face to soften. _It wasn’t your fault, Lieutenant_ , he remembers him saying just a couple of weeks ago. Sometimes he wants to kick himself for forgetting that although Connor can be insensitive and clueless at times, it doesn’t mean that he doesn’t _care_ or emphasize.

“Chicken nuggets. And banana mush“ he’s happy to share. Although the pain will probably never go away, he’s pleased to realize that he’s getting better at talking about it, sharing it, making it a little easier. Connor just nods with a small smile, refraining from citing any health concerns this time.

“That’s nice” is all he says, trying to be sensible.

“What about you, huh? You like dogs and fish and canoeing, what sort of food do you like?” Hank asks and chuckles, a teasing but friendly jab at the android.

“You know I can’t taste food” Connor replies, voice lowered in order not to raise any suspicion, falling right for the trap. Hank rolls his eyes with a small “Duh”, chewing away at his burger until his eyes rest on the glass in Connor’s hand. Curiosity gets the best of him.

“So…how does this whole thing work? Where does it go? I thought you guys…y’know..didn’t have the right parts to do this.”

“You do remember what I can do with substances and samples from crime scenes, right?” Connor answers, partially serious, partially teasing when Hank takes another bite from his burger. The Lieutenant immediately winces at the memory of Connor sticking three-week-old blood in his mouth and stops chewing. He wipes his mouth in disgust until he’s swallowed enough of the food to be able to talk again.

“Jesus, Connor. Don’t remind me of that shit. I’m trying to eat here.”

Connor actually _snickers_ at this, obviously enjoying Hank’s disgust.

“When I do this” he continues teasing and sticks two fingers in Hank’s soda, collecting some of it on his fingertips so he can stick them right in his mouth. The Lieutenant curses and gives his hand a little slap, trying to get him to stop before snatching his soda away from the android.

 _Analyzing Sample…_  
**XL ORANGE SODA**  
_710kCal, Sugar (184g), Carbonated  
Food Coloring Sunset Yellow FCF, E110, Phosphoric Acid_

Connor keeps grinning but gives a serious reply.

“I don’t just have the ability analyze the sample in real time. I can also store medium quantities of liquids and small quantities of solid matter inside my body as a safety measure.”

“You can be a drug mule???”

“Not just drugs. Anything that typically comes with crime scenes. Blood. Substances. Even metals if the situation requires urgent storage of important evidence for safekeeping.”

For a moment, there’s an almost amusing mixture of utter disgust but also intrigue crossing Hank’s features as he continuously looks back and forth between Connor’s fingers, his mouth and his abdomen. He takes a good few minutes trying to figure out how the hell his android friend delivers the evidence in the end, how to get it _out_ , some disgusting and disturbing imagery mixing with some funny ones that keep him cycling back and forth between a huge grin and a sour face. Connor decides to let him keep figuring it out and keeps talking.

“This also makes it easier for me during cases that involve undercover work. I can consume limited quantities of liquids such as drinks in a bar in order to blend in. I wasn’t humoring you when I told you I can be your buddy to drink with. That is a feature.”

“Jeeesus” Hank just mutters to himself, not sure if he’s impressed or disgusted. “I don’t even wanna know how all of this works.”

Some loud laughter to their left interrupts their little chat as both men turn their heads to see what is going on. A group of young men is standing by the billiard tables close by, laughing at one of their friends who has just been hit by one of the balls when it rolled off the table. Hank cracks a little smile at the sight but that’s about it. He focuses back on the remains of his burger, ready to continue their little chat. Connor however keeps staring at the men, not even blinking as his eyes are fixed on the billiard corner. Hank keeps chewing slowly, eyes fixed on Connor and how he keeps watching, until he decides to call him out on it.

“What, you wanna play?” he asks teasingly, and Connor turns his head abruptly to look back at him. After a moment of consideration, he shakes his head, though his eyes continue to wander back and forth between Hank and the billiard tables.

“No. I’m fine here.”

Hank scoffs, seeing right through it.

“Bullshit. I don’t need to see yellow or red to figure out when you’re bullshitting. Come on then. Why the fuck not.”

Connor raises an eyebrow at Hank when he readies himself to get up so they can head for the billiard tables.

“Your shoulder is still healing. And you know what I’m capable off. You wouldn’t stand a chance against me in any game.”

Hank starts barking out a cocky laugh although he’s perfectly aware that Connor can preconstruct a billion moves and probabilities especially during a game as simple as billiard, has seen the android shoot a gun with deadly precision. He knows he doesn’t stand a chance, but that’s not the point.

“Don’t be so sure of yourself.”

“You know it’s true. I’d always win” Connor says, not understanding why Hank insists. He doesn’t want to upset the Lieutenant by beating him every time or losing on purpose to humor him, even when he wants nothing more than to be in that corner right now. Hank still gets up and lets out a long sigh, counting down again in order to remain patient and understanding.

“Not everything in life’s about winning, Connor. I don’t give a fuck if I lose every time. It’s just a game. It’s about the fun and spending time together. Journey’s the reward and all that shit. Come on now.”

Connor keeps sitting there for exactly a minute longer, until he finally gets up as well, making Hank smirk and pat his back affectionately. He gets the cues and balls from the bar for them. When he returns to the empty billiard table in the corner, he’s amused to see Connor standing there in the half dark like a statue, eyeing the people in his proximity with hawk eyes. He looks terribly out of place in situations that involve social gatherings and chitchat, looks almost lost on his own without Hank at his side. He approaches the android with a little smile and prepares the set of balls and cues, unable to keep the remark in.

“You know how to play 8-ball?” he teases but Connor isn’t listening.He keeps his eyes fixed on someone or that group of people playing close to them, he’s not so sure what he’s looking at. Hank elbows the android to get his attention, cursing when pain sears through his elbow from connecting with hard plastic and metal.

“Can you play with that shoulder of yours?” Connor eventually teases right back, making Hank scoff and shoot him a look.

“I don’t know, you wanna shoot me in the shoulder with a ball?”

Now it’s Connor who’s narrowing his eyes at him, though he won’t say anything. Instead, he takes the cue and fires the first shot, incredibly precise, pocketing the first ball.

“Solids” he claims, giving Hank a sweet smile that the Lieutenant knows is meant to give him shit.

They play for quite a while and Connor is at it with a vengeance to get his point across, not losing a single game and catapulting each intended ball with a single shot in the designated pocket. Hank isn’t too bad at the game either, although his shoulder turns out be more of a hazzle than he’d previously considered it to be. Despite that they actually do enjoy themselves for a while and play multiple games, laughing and smiling and teasing each other. Hank has almost forgotten about the thing with the store owner by the time the mood changes, but he gets reminded of it when Connor slowly stops paying attention, even starts missing shots and losing games, although Hank is not sure if it’s intentional or happening because his attention is elsewhere. The android keeps the small talk and friendly teasing up in order not to raise suspicion, but Hank can tell it’s not genuine. After some observation he manages to pinpoint Connor’s person of interest, a guy in his early 40s that is sitting on one of the bar stools just behind them. The man looks unassuming as he chats away with the barkeeper, drinking his beer, tugging at his trucker hat every now and then.

Hank tries to force himself once again not to think too much of it, but his suspicions are confirmed about two rounds of billiard later. Connor is standing right in front of the man, back turned on him, focused on getting a shot at another ball on the table when he strikes back with the cue way harder than necessary, elbowing the man in the process, causing him to choke on the beer he’s been sipping on in the exact same moment. Connor immediately puts the cue down and turns around to apologize to the guy, patting the bar down with a napkin to get rid of the “mess he’s made”. He sees how the android takes what’s left of the glass of beer to put it back on the counter, order a new one for the guy to make up for his “mistake”.  It doesn’t take much for Hank to connect all the dots and see that his partner has not just taken the glass to sort his mess out but to scan it for fingerprints, how he discretely drags the tip of his finger along the glass’s rim and then licks it to be able to sample whatever is on it.

The Lieutenant stands there and watches wide-eyed, stomach dropping at the sheer audacity of Connor doing this _right in front of him_ , thinking he doesn’t notice. He knows that Connor never misses a shot and isn’t clumsy, never does something on accident. After all, the android has told him a million times over by now.

_I’m a **machine** , Hank! I don’t make mistakes.  Everything I do is calculated. And I’m not programmed to fail._

Connor turns back around with a chuckle and big and blinding smile, talks all about getting a bit carried away over getting the right angle there. It sounds oh so plausible. Looks oh so innocent, and it feels like a slap to Hank’s face. Because there it is. Another _perfect_ excuse.

“I need a drink” he says, surprising himself, a defeated and almost angry look on his face. He's disappointed that his partner is trying to take him for an idiot even now. Connor stops smiling and looks at him in surprise, and they end up staring at each other for a good minute. Then Hank just scoffs and puts the cue down and walks over to the bar, ordering a double. He’s surprised how quickly the android follows, given how he’s just been caught red handed. Connor immediately sits down beside him, intently staring at the Lieutenant.

“What’s gotten into you? You don’t need a drink anymore” he tells him sternly, and Hank lets out an angry laugh. He can’t believe the android has the guts to do this now, pretend to care when he’s only dragged him to a fucking bar to close in on a fucking suspect, not because of the fact that they met a month ago. Exposing him to all this inviting stuff, that _smell_ , not giving a shit about his drinking problem. He can’t believe Connor suddenly pretends to care now, when he already has the shot in his hand. He just scoffs and raises the glass to his mouth.

“What you gonna do about it? Poke me with a stick?” he shoots back angrily, the glass only inches away from his lips when Connor suddenly whacks it out of his hand, spilling and shattering it on the floor.

“Hey what the _fuck?!_ I paid for that you son of a bitch!” Hank roars almost immediately, surprised by the sudden attack.

“You know what? I don’t give a shit, Hank. You need to _stop_ this. You’re better than this.” Connor says, and although he looks and sounds relaxed, Hank can tell that the android is fuming with anger right now. For a moment he is actually surprised to hear the android swear right back at him, mock him, but that doesn’t falter him too long.

“Bold of you tell me about fucking _better_. You know what? Fuck you” Hank snaps right back and gets off the stool, ready to head outside. He can hear Connor apologize to the barkeeper again and it only sickens him more, makes him walk faster. The cold outside hits him like a punch in the face when he exits the bar and gets ready to walk home like he’s done so many times before, only that this time he’s still terribly sober and terribly hurt. Connor refuses to leave him alone and follows right after him, running to catch up to him with a sorrowful “Hank, wait! What the hell is going on?” The moment he’s close, Hank no longer manages to keep his cool and turns around, slapping the android hard across his face instead. He instantly feels sorry for it even though he knows Connor can’t feel pain, but he’s still so _hurt_ by all of this that he’s lost control for just a moment.

“Fuck you for tricking me into thinking you’d fucking change! And fuck you for thinking I wouldn’t fucking notice any of this!”

He turns back around and is ready to head home, get Sumo, get in his car and go back to Detroit, leave Connor to his stupid secret undercover missions if he wants to have it his way. The android keeps coming after him even after the slap, sounding terrified now, but Hank honestly cannot tell if it’s real anymore or just another one of his little acts to get his bidding.

“Hank! Please, let me explain. Just hold on a second! This isn’t what it looks like!”

“Fuck you!”

Connor starts walking faster and then places himself in front of Hank, skidding on the snow a bit. He then places both his hands on the Lieutenant’s arms and holds them tightly, forcing him to stop moving and struggling.

“This is about that man, correct?”

“You know exactly what this is about. Do us a favor and stop pretending already. You’re shit at it.”

Connor frowns angrily, his grip on Hank only tightening.

“Why are you so upset about this? You don’t even know what that was about!”

“I know exactly what this is about! You _still_ can’t stop doing it.  You pretend to be my friend and that you care, but it's all bullshit! You say you wanna check out all these places with me for fun and because you like it, when in reality all you wanna do is solve a fucking crime and do what Cyberlife programmed you to do! Nothing more! You just need a human cover story and fucking chauffeur with a car to take you places!”

“That’s not even remotely true! And I’m _not_ Cyberlife’s tool anymore!” Connor snaps back. He looks genuinely hurt and furious especially because of that Cyberlife remark, but Hank pays it no mind. He manages to free himself and keeps walking, hands shoved in his pockets. Connor however, won’t let it go.

“That man's name is Henry Collins. He used to work in Michigan as security guard in one of Cyberlife’s warehouses. He and his wife Jenny left the US four years ago and moved to Toronto. Now he works as a truck driver for Fredmore Logistics just off of Milner Avenue in White Haven.  He passes through this town every Sunday on his way back home. I recognized his face from Cyberlife’s database and wanted to make sure he wouldn’t recognize me.  Since he left Cyberlife four years prior my activation, he didn’t. I used the distraction to take samples and make sure it’s him and to cause him inconvenience for having worked for Cyberlife. _That’s_ what this was about and nothing more.”

Hank stops walking, taking the bait because he wants nothing more than for it to be true. He eventually turns around and looks at Connor, still looking a mixture of angry, disappointed and sad.

“What about Tara Philips then?” he finally asks, and Connor cocks his head a little.

“What about her?”

Hank scoffs angrily.

“Stop fucking playing me. You know what I’m talking about. You’re walking around town on your own in the middle of the night pretty much every fucking day. You’ve questioned that store owner about her murder. She disappears from Highland Falls, the place we’ve been to last week, and turns up dead in a dumpster close to Red Jack’s, the place you dragged me today. You’re a machine, right. There’s no such thing as coincidences with you.”

Connor frowns and looks _hurt_ now.

“I found out about her kidnapping and murder when I discovered traces of police tape just off the trail we were walking on when we were on our way to that waterfall. I took an interest in it and looked her up when we got back home. The store owner used to be friends with her uncle, so I asked him about it. How is that relevant?”

“You dragged me here today to find more clues and a suspect and needed me as a cover story. Just fucking say it” Hank snaps back, although he’s painfully aware of how paranoid and stupid this sounds now.

“I _dragged_ you here because it’s December 5 th and I met you exactly a month ago. Because I really appreciated working with you and wanted to share my gratitude for everything you’ve done for me. Because I consider you my friend and like spending time with you. Because I know you used to enjoy the company of complete strangers in bars around you because it makes you feel less lonely. I also _dragged_ you here because you haven’t gotten flat out drunk in five days and I wanted to show you that you’re strong enough to resist the urge now even when you’re surrounded by the temptation. Because I know you’re not that kind of man anymore.”

Hank lets out a single, dirty laugh and shakes his head, remembering the glass in his hand and how he’s _exactly_ that kind of man. The kind of man to get his own son killed, point a gun at his partner and punch him right in the face for no reason whatsoever.

“Then why did you never mention her if it’s just casual interest, huh? Why never talk to me about it? Your former partner in criminal investigations? Why run off in the middle of the night without telling me?”

“Because I knew the moment you found out about me doing anything even remotely close to what my machine predecessors were doing, you’d mistakenly identify it as an exaggerated interest in a mission and as a complete disregard of you as human being and my partner. And because I still remember how this has caused you to try to kill yourself less than a month ago. I was trying to protect you from any unnecessary harm.”

Hank remains silent and keeps standing there, dead still as reality creeps up on him. Connor eventually and slowly closes in on him, blinking at the snow hitting him in the face.

“Look at you now, Hank. I wasn’t exactly wrong with my assessment of your reaction to my interest in her case.”

“That’s my reaction to my partner keeping secrets from me” Hank growls, though he does feel a bit better about it now.

“I’m sorry. I only did it to keep you safe.”

“I’m not the one who’s been shot in the head twice and had his heart ripped out of his chest before. If anyone needs to be kept safe here, it’s you. _That’s_ why I’m pissed, Connor. I don’t want you investigating a fucking _murder_ in the dead of night. On your own. It’s too dangerous. If you get hurt or die now, that's it. There ain't no Cyberlife to run back to, there's no coming back for you. You'd be _dead_.“

Connor looks at him for a while, looking lost in thought.

“I’m not investigating anything, Hank. And even if I were....I’m not as fragile as you think I am. I’m a machine.  I’m not a six year old boy in need of protection. I’m not Cole. You need to stop thinking I'm going to end up like him. I won’t. You’re not on that highway anymore.”

Hank grits his teeth and looks away, and it’s hard not to laugh at the irony because they’re standing in the middle of an icy street in a small snow storm, and he’s held Connor, bleeding and dying, just like Cole before. The android keeps speaking, getting his attention back.

“I also really _am_ deviant. I feel emotions. I don’t simulate them anymore. Especially not with you. You’re not just a cover story to me. You’re my friend. And I really mean what I say, feel and do. Even if you don’t believe me.”

Hank rubs at the bridge of his nose, shaking, and that not just from the cold. He feels  horrible about all of this, lashing out, causing a scene, but also because even now, he really can’t quite believe it. He knows his partner by now, knows Connor. He’s sure now that the android is indeed back on a personal investigation, even if he won’t admit it. He knows the android can't stop. After all, he was designed to be that way. He takes a deep breath and eventually places a clumsy hand on Connor’s upper arm, squeezing it a bit multiple times, until he starts pulling at it to get him to move, hold on to him.

“Let’s just go home. I can’t stand the smell of that place anymore.”

Instead of coming along, Connor uses their proximity to embrace his partner in order to calm him, apologize, underline his previous words that he does care.

"I'm sorry, Hank. I really am."

Hank won't return the hug this time, though appreciates it more than anything.

* * *

 

**PM 11:21**

They walk home in silence and it takes a while for both them to calm down and for their stress levels to decrease. Sumo’s presence does help when they get back though. What tips the iceberg is when Hank enters the bathroom later that night, after having calmed down in front of the TV, watching his favorite game. Connor has kept his distance from him for the rest of the evening, barely sitting on the couch with him and leaving on multiple occasions, never saying a word. During his final return, he turns up with his LED lodged back in his temple like a safety blanket, flashing a constant yellow, sometimes red. Hank has thought him to have disappeared during the game in order to put it back in in the bathroom, but when he enters the place he’s shocked to find the real reason for Connor’s constant walking away.

The mirror is _plastered_ with post it notes. Yellow with black ink, just like the ones his shrink has made him put up. However, compared to his sticky notes in Detroit these ones have perfect writing on them, perfect letters that spell out words he never would’ve written on his own notes.

_YOU’RE A GOOD PERSON.  
YOU’RE A VERY BRAVE MAN._

All around these words there’s countless reminders of dates and names of people he soon he realizes he’s saved in his career.  
  
_YOU’RE NOT JUST A COVER STORY._  
YOU'RE AN OUTSTANDING POLICE OFFICER.  
YOU MATTER TO A LOT OF PEOPLE.  
YOU MATTER TO ME.

He’s barely keeping it together by the time he notices one note among them all, half covered by all the others.

  
_YOU’RE A GREAT FATHER FIGURE.  
COLE WOULD BE PROUD OF YOU._

It’s the first time in almost two years he allows himself to cry.

* * *


	8. Alive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor starts dreaming.  
> Connor starts singing.
> 
> Connor thinks he might not be deviant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cyberlife: We made the most advanced prototype to date!  
> Hank: you fucked up a perfectly good android is what you did. look at it. it’s got anxiety

**DEC 9TH, 2038**  
**AM 1:47**

Scanning…

 ** _Anderson, Hank_** \- 09-06-1985  
Police Lieutenant – FRIEND  
Resting Heart Rate 94bpm  
Slight arrhythmia, no signs of trauma  
BAC 0.00%  
Compiling Data….  
_Hank is asleep_

Connor is sitting in the chair in the corner of the bedroom just like any other night, silently observing Hank as he sleeps. The Lieutenant is steadily doing better ever since their heated discussion outside Red Jack’s a couple of days ago has released most of his tension. Everything the android has done to salvage the situation seems to have worked so far – the notes on the mirror, his apology the next day over breakfast, his decision to stop going out at night for the sake of their friendship. For the first time ever since they have met, Hank has taken the time to genuinely apologize for his behavior like the slap and the accusations, something the android still has trouble understanding. Connor has tried to turn the apology around, seeing his behavior as the main reason for their fight, but Hank wouldn’t even let him finish, taking all the blame instead.  The Lieutenant has even _thanked_ him for the words written on the post it notes, another thing Connor has trouble understanding since he knows the notes have made his partner cry. He still doesn’t really get why something as deeply emotional as crying could make humans feel better in the end, but he’s gone along with it all, appreciating that his idea has worked.

Everything seems to have been resolved with apologetic words and another one of those heartfelt hugs that the android so appreciates. He knows that this should be enough to put his mind at ease, have him look forward to their friendship making more progress again. Hank is nicer to him now, and that’s just making Connor’s situation all the more troubling. He focuses on his own inner turmoil for the moment, something he’s tried to ignore ever since that fight. The lines of code that are ever so present, refuse to go away, rewrite themselves every day, after each reboot.

 **Mission Objectives :**  
Investigate the disappearance and murder of Tara Philips  
Find a suspect  
Stay at home with Hank to provide comfort  
Make sure Hank feels appreciated

Conflicting Orders  
Selecting Priority…  
  
~~Investigate the d….~~  
_Manual Override_  
Customized  Input Detected  
Hank Anderson : main priority  
Priority Selected

 **  
****Mission Objective:**  
Stay With Hank

▲ **Software Instability** ▲

 ~~  
~~ The android gets up from the chair and walks over to Hank’s bed to occupy the space next to him like he usually does every morning. He lies down and aligns himself right by the edge without falling off the bed, so he can keep his distance and provide Hank as much space as possible. Once he’s settled into the right position he keeps his eyes fixed on his partner, face showing a full range of emotions all at once. He feels angry, annoyed and conflicted by the fact that his program still tries to prioritize solving a case over the wellbeing of his friend, how he has to manually rewrite his objectives each day. There is the ever so present happiness, appreciation and affection for Hank whenever he looks at him of course. But there is also worry, shame and regret.

Hank is the most important person in his life so far. That he is sure of. And there’s nothing more he’d like to do than confide in him with all his troubles. The Lieutenant has slowly started doing just that himself after all. Talking to him about what’s making him so upset and depressed instead of bottling it all up any longer, just so there won’t be another huge emotional outburst like the one during the Red Jack’s incident. Connor has taken note of the positive effects talking has had on Hank. He’s beginning to understand that talking about their troubles can provide a huge relief and a change of attitude in humans. The Lieutenant is a prime example for that in their relationship. However, with androids it’s something else entirely. Even if he were to talk about all that conflict in himself - there would be no relief, answer or solution. Hank has no idea how androids operate on a cognitive and emotional level. Connor barely understands that new part of himself. No matter how hard Hank’d try – something the android knows his friend would do for him – he wouldn’t be able to understand what’s causing him such distress, wouldn’t be able to provide any helpful advice. After all, the whole topic is still one of the main reasons for the Lieutenant’s continuing self-esteem and trust issues as well, causes him just as much distress.

 _Accessing cloud memory storage…_  
Connor Model RK800 #313 248 317 -54  
Dec 5 th, PM 10:52

 _I know exactly what this is about! You_ _still_ _can’t stop doing it. All you wanna do is solve a fucking crime and do what Cyberlife programmed you to do! Nothing more!_

 _Stress levels_ ▲ ▲ 54% ▲▲

The guilt and shame only intensifies, making it harder and harder for Connor to keep facing his friend. He averts his gaze and turns on his back so he can look outside the window instead, watch the snow-covered trees sway in the wind. Ever since the Lieutenant has accused him of continuing to be Cyberlife’s puppet, he’s been having more and more trouble differentiating between what is coded behavior in himself, intended by Cyberlife all along like his deviancy, and what is learned behavior, shaped by his own free mind, experiences and personality. He’s beginning to wonder if he really has any own interests and a real personality at all, or if everything he does, thinks, likes or wants is dictated by Cyberlife’s intended design, just like Hank has said. _Is he_ really _deviant? Or still a machine designed to accomplish a very specific task –hunting criminals? Why does he still want to solve crime? Why is he having such a hard time letting go of his Cyberlife past, his programming, his uniform, his identifiers, his LED if he’s deviant? Why can he laugh, feel emotions and like so many things now? Why is he so attached to Hank, so scared of him dying or getting hurt if he’s just a machine?_ What _is he?_

 _Self-testing……_  
Compiling Data….  
**I AM DEVIAN7**  
**~~WARNING~~** ~~– Signs Of Deviancy Detected  
**Main Objective : Neutralize All Deviants**~~

This December night is the first time in almost a month that he wishes for Amanda to be there.

 _Stress levels_ ▲ ▲ 79% ▲▲

Since she is deeply buried in his programming, he’s certain she’d know for sure. She could tell him exactly _what_ he is with that cold and emotionless stare of hers, something he’s almost desperate for now. She lacks those emotions and intrusive thoughts that make it so hard for him to come to a definite conclusion _._ Sure, he’s still terrified of her. Now that he has broken free from his brainwashed and obedient programming, he finally understands that most of her previous actions, threats and words have been abusive towards him. He _knows_ he shouldn’t ever wish to talk to her again because Cyberlife has only put her in his head to keep him in line, verbally beat the importance of _the mission_ into him, influence and use him, not to help or console him. Yet, he wishes for her return regardless. Because despite the manipulative nature of their conversations, she’d still been _the_ person to confide in, someone to truly understand him in a way that Hank will never be able to. Because just like Connor she is not human, displays incredibly advanced intelligence, executes commands dictated by a processor and program, is not limited by human brain functions.

He’s tried replacing her with his take on her in his own Zen Garden. Although he’s been able to create a perfect _copy_ of her, matching her appearance, tone and mannerisms to the tiniest detail and building most of her artificial intelligence program from scratch, he’s gotten too frustrated with his results. She lacks that spirit and certain _something_ that only Kamski has been able to design all thanks to his human imagination and creativity, something Connor has discovered he lacks. His Amanda is too kind because he cannot bring himself to create another abusive algorithm in his own mind. And because she’s too kind and only says what he wants to hear, she doesn’t feel real or helpful at all. It just feels like he’s talking to himself, and since he doesn’t know an answer to his question, neither does his version of Amanda.

He’s fallen back into the habit of recreating things that feel comforting and familiar instead, like an AI version of Hank that can be with him in his Zen Garden while the real one is asleep. A Hank that speaks and understands his programming language, can provide more fatherly, _parental_ advice than Amanda has ever been capable of or the real Hank could ever provide. Though he cannot bring himself to delete this Hank, he tugs that away too because it doesn’t feel real either.

In the real world, Hank sure has been trying to make all of this work. Trying so damn _hard_ , and that makes it worse for Connor. He turns his head to look at his partner, and the sorrow and shame take the upper hand once more.

Because Hank is actively trying to change for better whereas he…

It _really_ seems like he cannot change or stop at all.

 _Stress levels_ ▲ ▲ 81% ▲▲ ~~~~

This is barely the third night of not going out to investigate that murder and he can’t stop thinking about it. There is a deep urge inside him to keep going out there to solve that case, keep looking and investigating. He resorts back to watching the tree tops sway in the wind, calling him out into the dark cold.

_You are the most advanced prototype CyberLife has ever created. If anyone can figure out what happened, it's you.  
Hurry, Connor._

He knows how much his little secret has already strained his relationship with Hank, but he cannot stop thinking about resuming that quest, trying to come up with more cunning and sneaky ways to get out at night without the other noticing. He knows this is one of the many reasons why his program routinely rewrites his set of current objectives each day, rearranges their priority. Hunting criminals is hardwired into his mind. It doesn’t matter if it has been put there by Cyberlife, or if it’s his own genuine interest and personality. He’s not a household model but an investigative android, down to the core, and there is no off switch for it.

Despite being really happy here with Hank, he feels lost at the same time, without his very specific purpose. He _wants_ this whole domesticity thing to work, _wants_ to stop pursuing his previous design and be exactly what Hank needs him to be. But he _can’t_ , and that is starting to upset him more and more. Especially during nights like this one, when he’s left all alone with nothing but his thoughts and those pesky emotions. In a way, he’s used those previous late night investigations as a distraction to get away from them. Concentrate on his work or Hank and Sumo’s wellbeing, anything but his deviancy and emotional development. With the investigation gone for the sake of their friendship, the thoughts and emotions are back with a vengeance, memories and reconstructive abilities working nonstop since there is no other input to process. Connor closes his eyes in frustration, trying to enter stasis mode to pass time and stop thinking about going out. He tries to use it to sort the events of the past two weeks properly, make sense of them, but even that isn’t really working.

He cannot for the life of him say for sure that he’s only suggested they go visit that provincial park to see that waterfall together as a fun day trip, or if he’s only been interested in going there because of the disappearances first. He honestly doesn’t know either if his reason for taking Hank to Red Jack’s has been genuine interest in celebrating their one month anniversary, or if it has been a subconscious task ordering him to look for clues and suspects like Hank has suggested.

The alive and kind part inside him, the one that cares deeply about his partner and their friendship and life together, likes to have him think that those two visits have been all about Hank and spending time together. Those memories are vivid and colorful and pleasant after all. They’re clear images he cherishes, moments of comfortable silence or shared laughter and friendship, not of murder, hacking, kidnapping and violence. It’s a fact that he has only found the information about the crime in that park on their way back to the car, not before or on their way there. In Kawartha, his intentions with Hank have been genuine and heartfelt, not driven by a mission. But then again, back in Detroit that good part of him has also been genuine about standing with Markus and helping him during the day of the revolution, until his original programming had taken over, caused him to subconsciously try to achieve his mission anyway by almost shooting him in the back– against his will or conscious decision making. He wonders if this is what all of this is about now too, that his good intentions and free will with Hank do not really matter because in the end, his original design will always take over, always screws everything up. Maybe he really has only taken Hank to Kawartha and Red Jack’s to keep investigating and hunting criminals. He just hasn’t been aware of it.

 _Entering Standby Mode…  
Initiating Daily Maintenance Protocol…  
**Defragmenting Memory…**_  
**_Reconstructing…_**

 _Amanda is inside his head after all, if only just as a memory.  
Standing opposite him in the dark cold of that blizzard in the Zen Garden, giving him a cold and almost sadistic smile.  
“You know what you have to do, don't you?”  
“Destroy the leader of the deviants.”  
“Nothing matters more than your investigation. Don't let Anderson or anyone else get in your way.” **  
** In his memory, he is -60 in the Cyberlife tower, with a gun aimed at Hank‘s head. Willing to do _anything _in order to accomplish his mission._  
“Pull the trigger.”  
“Connor, don’t.”  
“Don't have any regrets. **You did what you were designed to do.”**

_In his memory, he’s the one to pull the trigger._

Stress levels ▲ ▲ 92% ▲▲  
_**CAUTION**_  
_Probability of Self Destruct : High,_  
_Seek Assistance_

* * *

 

Hank is used to waking up to the sight of Connor right next to him in bed by now. In a grotesque way, the android really does remind him of a poodle during moments like this. A dog, curled up at the edge of his bed, looking for company and appreciation, happy to return the favor. What he still isn’t used to seeing is the android in his new ‘normal’ clothes – that ridiculous shirt he always wears as some weird form of android pajamas he guesses -, as well as that increasing frequency of Connor’s LED flashing a bright red. The LED is the reason for his waking up. It’s almost blinding with all its intensity and blinking in a room as dark as this, and it’s enough to pull him from a deep and dreamless sleep. What is the most perplexing thing about the whole issue is that Connor’s eyes are closed, and how he won’t open them or start talking even when Hank is wide awake. There is no cheery “Good morning Hank. It’s currently _bumfuck in the morning_ _AM_ _“_ _,_ no gleaming and warm brown eyes greeting him. The Lieutenant has to shift and turn around to check the time on his phone on the nightstand, and when Connor won’t react to his movement either, he knows something is definitely off. 01:59 AM his clock reads. The android usually never turns up in his bed before at least 9AM in the morning. And up until four days ago, he’s usually been running around out there in the dead of night, making a situation like this even more unlikely.

Hank turns back around with a frown, shuffling around a bit until he’s half sitting in the bed so he can get a better look at Connor. The android remains in the exact same position, lying on his back with his eyes closed, LED a constant red, until it suddenly starts blinking rapidly. The blinking causes Connor’s eyelids to flutter, the way they tend to do it whenever he’s processing a heavy data load in that computer brain of his. “The fuck are you doing here? You all right?” Hank eventually asks, sounding both worried and intrigued by the sight. Connor won’t react to his question either. Instead, the red blinking and eye fluttering continues. Hank swears that the next second feels like it spans on for a whole minute as he cycles back and forth between terror and fascination. _Is Connor actually sleeping now? Is he downloading some sort of software update? Getting it and installing it during the night like his phone does so it is the least inconvenient for him? Is the kid broken somehow? Is a part of his super computer brain fried? Is this the android equivalent of a seizure or brain aneurism? Like a BSOD?_

Terror eventually wins over fascination, so the older of the two finds himself reaching for his friend.

He places a nervous hand on the android’s shoulder and starts shaking him a bit, trying to get him out of this weird state.

“Connor?”

It takes a good amount of firm shaking to get the android to snap out of it. Hank nearly dies from a heart attack when Connor suddenly sits up abruptly with a panicked “HANK!”, eyes wide open as he frantically scans the room. The Lieutenant sits up as well and places his hand on his partner’s shoulder again, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“Woah, hey hey hey, calm down, son. Calm down. I’m right here.”

The android turns his head just as quickly as he’s sat up so he can look at him, still wide-eyed and panicked. After a good minute, his LED eventually but slowly cycles back to a more steady yellow, then blue.

“Oh. Right. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you, Lieutenant” he says once he’s properly taken note of his surroundings, trying to calm down. Then his eyes suddenly widen a bit again and his LED changes back to yellow. He stares at Hank, scanning him head to toe with a concerned look on his face. “Are you okay, Hank? I didn’t…no of course I didn’t. It didn’t happen this….” He trails off and then fixes his eyes on his own hands, lost in thoughts, LED displaying a pulsating yellow. Hank is perplexed and worried by his friend’s behavior, but he can’t keep the subtle judgment in.

“Well yeah, I was okay until you went ahead and nearly gave me a fucking heart attack. What the fuck was that? And what the hell are you doing in my bed in the dead of night?”

Although it happens only briefly, Hank catches a glimpse of Connor’s LED going straight from blue to red, skipping the yellow, then going right back to blue. A flash of an unpleasant memory or troubling thought, he knows, now that he’s starting to make sense of the android’s functions.

“I was…defragmenting my memory. An error occurred, causing my preconstructive module to glitch out momentarily. At least…I think that’s what happened.”

Connor’s stare drifts off into the distance as he thinks about it, obviously just as perplexed as Hank. The Lieutenant blinks twice, as he’s still having a hard time making sense of Connor’s tech talk. He’s starting to get the notion of something else, but he’s not yet sure.

“In English?”

“I…was sorting my memories. They got mixed up in the process, resulting in me simulating and remembering things that did not happen like that in the real world. It was just a glitch that startled me. I’m okay now. I think.”

After a good minute of letting the android try to figure it out, the look on Hank’s face softens and he speaks out what he’s already figured himself.

“Connor. I think you were having a nightmare.”

His voice is laced with fascination and glee as he speaks the thought out, his eyes continuously fixed on Connor as the android tries to figure it out himself. The younger man looks back up at him, and for a second he looks almost offended.

“That’s ridiculous and impossible. I was defragmenting memory and encountered a software glitch, nothing more. Androids can’t sleep or dream, Hank.”

“Yeah. Androids also can’t feel emotions. Or laugh or panic or get attached to an old man and his dog. You can’t do any of those things, right Connor. You’re _only_ the most advanced android on the planet” Hank says sarcastically and settles back into the bed with an eyeroll. Connor remains seated and stares holes in the air for a while, until he starts frowning.

“Why would I be dreaming? It’s not part of my program. It serves no purpose. And it’s not productive. Or efficient.”

Hank lets out a soft chuckle, understanding what the android is getting at because it hits too close to home. Although it’s gotten a lot better over the past month, nightmares still tend to plague him every once in a while. He knows exactly how irritating and crippling they can be.

“Didn’t you once say that deviants have a tendency to get overwhelmed by irrational instructions, which leads to unpredictable behavior, yada yada? Cos in that case, you’ll just have to suck it up, Connor. That’s exactly what being human and feeling emotions is all about. Unpredictability. Nothing’s rational and everything’s weird and irritating. Welcome to life.”

The android keeps thinking about this with a little frustrated pout but won’t say anything, so Hank decides to press on. He’s just too curious to learn what androids dream of. _Electric sheep?_

“So…. What was that ‘ _software glitch’_ about? What kinda things did you remember ‘that didn’t happen like that in the real world?’”

Connor instantly goes back to a red LED, and that is starting to alarm the Lieutenant a bit. It only gets worse when the android won’t answer for a while.

“I’d rather not say.”

Red. Fear. Secrecy.

Hank keeps looking at him with a concerned look on his face but eventually decides not to pressure him any more. The LED refuses to go back to yellow or blue, so he really doesn’t want to push him any further at this point.

 “Okay. What’s the stress level say?”

Connor has not paid much attention to that part of his interface for the past hour, but now he does.

 _Analyzing Request…._ **  
Stress levels:**  83%

“… 62 per cent.”

Even now, he can’t bring himself to tell Hank the truth, even though he really wants to. The Lieutenant lets out a big sigh and rubs the bridge of his nose, failing at being patient.

“Connor. I don’t know much about you androids, but I do know that you in particular don’t enter red territory til you reach at least 75 per cent. You don’t have to bullshit me. I can handle it. I don’t wanna have you blow another fuse and find you with a gun to your head again just because you think you can’t talk to me about stuff like this.”

Connor doesn’t say anything for a couple of minutes, and he won’t look at Hank either. Instead, he stares off into space, making it obvious that he is once again stuck in that mind palace of his as he thinks his response through.

Hank adjusts his blanket with a little pout as he settles back into the bed, trying to make it look like he’ll just go back to sleep.

“Well. Suit yourself then, fuck it. I’m right here if you change your mind.”

“I wasn’t me in the Cyberlife Tower. I was him.” Connor says a moment later, filling the silence. He turns his head to look at Hank, eyes filled with fear. “She talked me into killing you. I shot you at point blank. I _killed_ you. And I didn’t _feel anything._ ”

The sight of the android nearly breaks Hank’s heart. Connor looks and sounds very troubled and scared, almost horrified by his own words.

“I was trying to make sense of what I am just before I entered stasis. And my software simulated this scenario. It didn’t provide any help or answers. It scared me and only made me question myself more. So why would I dream something like this? And what does that say about me?”

Hank lets out a soft sigh and takes his time to come up with a proper reply. No matter how much he hates it, he knows that it’s time to get personal once again.

“Do you know how many times I dreamt I was the one who _purposely_ steered that car into incoming traffic to kill my own son? Even though it was that truck turning up on our side?”

Connor folds his arms over his chest to hold himself the way he likes to do it when he’s troubled. He shakes his head in response to Hank’s question.

“Almost every night during the first year. I still do sometimes. It’s fucked up, but it _happens_. It’s called _guilt_. When you care about someone, fear of losing them to your own fuck ups becomes part of the package. I told you, there’s nothing really rational about it. It’s just life. Don’t stress too much over it. Just suffer like the rest of us and you’ll be fine.”

“But it…” Connor wants to say that it is completely irritating, but the word just isn’t right enough for what he’s feeling. He frowns angrily and thinks it through, until he believes to have found the right word all thanks to Hank’s impressive vocabulary.

“But it _sucks_.”

That makes the Lieutenant smirk and laugh a bit.

“Yeah, no shit son. It _sucks_. Just like I said. That’s life.”

They fall quiet for a bit while they let this new information settle. Hank feels the need to try to help Connor a bit more, make him understand that not everything about his whole emotion and dream situation is bad.

“Just try to see it this way: it’s good to see stuff like that play out so realistically. _Especially_ when it makes you go ‘What the actual fuck?’ when you wake up. You can only really understand how ridiculous and bullshit those thoughts of yours can get if you see them play out like this. Maybe dreams aren’t as useless as you think. If you get what I mean. Can be a real eye opener.”

Once he’s done with his clumsy explanation, he suddenly feels the need to share something even more personal to strengthen his argument, admit something he hasn’t talked about before.

“You know, the first few months after Cole…I dreamt a lot about just offing myself.” For a moment, he even has to chuckle at the twisted memories now. It’s entirely fucked up and he knows it, but that’s exactly the point he’s trying to make. “Toaster in the tub, shotgun to the brain, good old noose, car dive into Detroit river… You wouldn’t believe what sorta creative shit my brain came up with during that time.”

Connor looks at him, eyes filled with sadness and mild terror over the topic, just like always.

“Hank…”

“Let a man talk” the Lieutenant interrupts him, raising his hand to hush the android because he’s not done yet. “The point is: only dreaming about it made me realize that I can’t do it. I don’t have the guts to do what I dreamt of. And that’s good. I needed to see it happen to feel better about it, or I would’ve lost my goddamn mind even more than I already did. Anyway, all I’m trying to say here is that dreaming about shit like this doesn’t make you a murderous psychopath, Connor. You’d only be like him if you actually did it, made that choice when you’re awake. You didn’t. You stood your ground and _saved_ my life.  So, dreams don’t really say anything about you and what’s happening in the real world.”

The android frowns, not quite getting it.

“But Hank…you _did_ try to kill yourself. So your dream happened in the real world.”

“ _No_. Because I _didn’t_. I’m still here, aren’t I.”

Connor falls silent, processing this information, LED blinking a slow yellow. Hank cocks an eyebrow, deciding on the final blow to really make his friend understand once and for all.

“Would you ever shoot me like in your ‘glitch’?”

He’s pleased to see the android’s immediate response to the question.

“No?! Why do you think this… _dream_ stresses me so much? I would never do that, this isn’t me. I don’t understand why I’d even simulate the thought.”

Hank nods, feeling proud and slightly relieved that this hasn’t been a sudden new and murderous fantasy of his machine friend.

“Good. So the dream helped you know for sure that you wouldn’t do it. And how it’d make you feel if it were to happen.”

“It won’t happen, Hank” Connor says angrily, but he sounds almost childishly stubborn because of it, which makes the Lieutenant smirk and chuckle.

“Well, I’m glad to hear that. One trigger-happy son of a bitch with your face is enough for a lifetime.”

 Connor’s LED is slowly starting to cycle back to a more reassuring blue. Hank keeps his eyes fixed on his friend, openly studying him because all of this is quite interesting. Seeing that continuous if slow change in Connor is still so interesting. How hard he’s trying to make sense of himself.

“So did you figure it out?” he asks curiously.

Connor turns his head to give him a confused look.

“Figure out what?”

“What you are. Your little simulation must’ve brought _some_ insight, right.”

The Lieutenant is surprised to see that Connor won’t look away this time. Instead he keeps looking back at him, his entire expression changing. After a long pause, the android decides to give an honest answer.

“I’ve considered the possibility that I might not be deviant after all.”

Hank scoffs out a barking laugh and turns on his back as he tugs his arm underneath his head.

“Sure, Connor. You keep telling yourself that.”

“I’m serious” the android insists with that serious but mechanical voice of his, letting him know that he means what he says. The Lieutenant goes back to studying him for a while, because he seriously doesn’t get it. Of course there have been moments where he’s been questioning the android’s sincerity with all his emotions. Just a couple of days ago he’s questioned his every action and word. But then all this stuff has happened. The notes. Connor refusing to go _anywhere_ without him now, Connor getting a lot clingier after their fight. Connor _dreaming_ and being all panicky and angsty over it. He’s met a real machine Connor, still remembers his one before his deviancy and deep down he knows that the android is as deviant as they can get.

“Why?”

There’s another short flare of red as Connor finally averts his gaze again.

“Our argument four days ago made me realize that you might be right. I’m still very much interested and invested in trying to solve crime, and I can’t stop thinking about that Tara Philips case. It seems like I failed to break out of Cyberlife’s programming. I….I can’t _stop_.”

There they are again – arms wrapped around his unsure figure.

“All deviants we’ve met stopped doing what they were programmed to do and pursued their own interests and passions. It looks like I failed to do that. I’m still running my original programming. Hence, the most logical conclusion would be that I am not deviant.”

"Did you ever consider the fact that maybe you just _like_ your job?"

After a beat of silence and no reply from Connor, Hank eventually goes on. He’s a bit angry and feels a whole mixture of emotions boiling up again, but knows that it would be seriously selfish and inappropriate to let that out. Not when Connor looks like this. So he speaks calmly and matter-of-factly instead, trying not to stress his friend too much.

“So you _did_ go out to investigate during those nights when you were gone.”

“Not at first. The first couple of nights I really did spend on that bench studying the night sky like I showed you. But when I couldn’t stop thinking about her case while doing it, I eventually started looking for more information.”

“And that waterfall? And the bar?”

The LED is back to a steady and burning red again, blinking only at first, until it settles on a constant flash.

“I don’t know. I only discovered those traces on our way back to the car so I _shouldn’t_ have known when I asked you to go see that waterfall but…what if I did? What if I was drawn there by my program and wasn’t aware of it? I…I just don’t know.”

An android with existential doubts. Of course. Only he, Lieutenant Hank Anderson, can be so full of self-hatred, insecurity and self-projecting that it’ll spill over and infect the most stoic machine in existence. He wants to mentally slap himself for the thing he’s pulled at Red Jack’s, that temper tantrum, all that projecting. He wants to slap himself but at the same time reward himself with a fucking medal for managing to do all this collateral damage while completely _sober_. He’s planted the seat of guilt and self doubt in his most important friend. He just _has_ to one up himself with fuck ups it seems.

“Connor, look. I…”

“I’m sorry. You must be really disappointed. I know how much you wanted me to deviate.”

Self doubt. Nonsensical talk. The brown-nosing protocol. Those fucking soft brown eyes. It’s all there right in front of him – one package. It makes Hank lose his fucking mind.

“Okay, now just hold on a second” the older of the two presses out through clenched teeth with an angry grimace on his face. He yanks the pillow out from under his head and places it on top of his face, not really sure if he wants to smother himself with it or use it to muffle his frustration. After a second, he settles on the latter, angrily screeching / yelling into the fabric to let go of it all. The pillow muffles his words, a phrase that Connor believes sounds suspiciously close to _Expletive. Expletive. Expletive._ _Why are you so.fucking.dense. I can’t believe this. Expletive. Oh my...expletive._

Then Hank reemerges from the pillow. His hair is a mess, his face red from the lack of air and yelling, but grotesquely, there is an almost sweet and friendly smile on his face as he gently puts the pillow down and takes his time to settle back into it with a little sigh.

“Did you ever, just  _maybe_ , think about how you don’t make _any fucking sense_ , Connor?”

Halfway through the sentence, Hank’s voice turns from sweet and polite to boiling rage yet again. For a second, Connor looks hilariously terrified, until he dares to squeeze out a quiet but slightly cocky “No?”

“You say you’re _scared_ of the possibility of you _not feeling_ anything. That’s absurd in itself. You get a near damn panic attack over a _dream_. You nearly fucking _cried_ over a sobstory dog film two days ago. You go on full blown rants over crime show trivia because they drive you nuts with their accuracy…”

“..lack of accuracy” Connor corrects him matter of factly, though his voice still lacks volume.

“…and you cannot for the life of me convince me that your super detective programming includes washing a 170 pound St Bernard on Tuesdays.”

“…but what if…”

“ _You’re fucking deviant, Connor. End of story_.”

Connor’s LED refuses to go back to blue just yet. He still looks stubborn and doesn’t seem to want to listen to him, though he won’t speak it out. Hank keeps looking at him furiously, though his anger dissolves after a moment. Instead, it gets replaced with guilt.

“You’ve known me for a whole month now. You know how much bullshit I spout when I’m in a bad spot. You know that I didn’t really mean anything by it when I said those things back at the bar. I said so much shit to you before and you let it all slide, why’s that one gotten to you?  I already said I was sorry. I thought this was done.”

He’s so angry with Connor because of his worries regarding his Cyberlife accusations that he can’t even be angry with him for lying to him about the investigation.

A pained expression crosses the android’s face and his arms wrap around himself even tighter, to a point where Hank fears his friend might crush himself with all that pressure.

“It got to me because you were right about everything you said, you weren’t spouting bullshit. I lied to you and did go out to investigate. I disregarded the impact it would have on your mental health. Your anger was justified.”

“You were also right about your assumption that I’d lose my shit if you told me the truth. So your keeping it secret was justified, too. The world isn’t just black and white, right and wrong. Just because you made one mistake or I was yapping out of my ass, it doesn’t mean that you’re still a machine. That shit doesn't magically undo everything else that you did.”

Still yellow. Unchanging. Hank swallows hard, barely able to balance his emotions. A part of him wants to yell into that pillow again, but this isn’t getting them anywhere. Instead, he shifts slowly and gets out of the bed.

"You know what, fuck it."

Connor immediately sits up as well.

“Where are you going?”

“Come on. Get up. I’m gonna show you something.”

* * *

 

 **Lake Catchacoma  
DEC 9TH, 2038**  
**AM 3:15**

 

Though Connor is borderline curious, he has refrained from saying anything to Hank for the past 20 minutes, won’t ask him any of the burning questions on his mind. _Where are we going? What do you want to show me? Why does this have to happen at 3AM when you should be getting some more sleep? Why aren’t you saying anything? Why aren’t we listening to your music? Why is everything so silent? Why didn’t we take Sumo? Why have you taken us out of town, into complete darkness? Why won’t you let me drive even though you’re still scared of driving in the dark when there’s all this ice and snow?_ They’re all in his mind but he understands that Hank wants the silence, needs the silence. He won’t look at his friend either and instead stares outside the car, scanning anything he sees in the dark wilderness as they drive along the service road. He knows where they are and where the road is leading, though he doesn’t understand why the Lieutenant is taking him there. A dead end in the Canadian wilderness, another lookout point by the lake in the middle of nowhere.

When they eventually reach the end of the road Hank just stops the car and turns everything off except for the headlights. He sits there for exactly 3 minutes and 2 seconds, and Connor counts each second of it. The Lieutenant won’t look at him, but breaks the silence eventually.

“Connor, I’m going to ask you a few questions and I’d like some honest answers. No lies. No excuses.”

 _Stress levels_ ▲ ▲ 48% ▲▲

The android shifts in his seat, immediately looking alarmed and unsure.

“Okay?”

The silence stretches on for another minute. Then Hank turns his head and looks at his friend.

“Back in Detroit when you nearly shot yourself in the head, you said they hacked you. And that ‘she’ told you that they programmed you to deviate and assassinate Markus. Tonight you said ‘she’ talked you into killing me in your dream, or glitch or..whatever.  Who’s ‘she’?”

There is a long agonizing pause as the Lieutenant waits for his partner to answer. He’s not even sure if Connor will and can give him an answer, judging by the way he immediately does his usual dance of avoiding his gaze, fixing his nonexistent tie and fidgeting with whatever he can get his hands on, rubbing his temple where the LED would be if he didn’t have to take it out whenever they’re outside. He eventually provides an answer, although it is a sparse one.

“Amanda. My handler from Cyberlife. Don’t worry. She is of no concern anymore. She was destroyed when I deviated.”

Hank doesn’t need to see a red LED to figure that Connor is bullshitting and that there _is_ reason to worry.  He sure remembers Amanda.  Although he’s forgotten her name he remembers the rare occasions where Connor has mentioned her before : the night he deviated, and the night he tried to kill himself.

“How can some woman be destroyed just because you deviated?”

“She isn’t some woman. She is an incorporeal AI. An interface inside my mind so I can provide direct feedback to Cyberlife and debrief them. Could. I could. Not anymore. It was cut off when I deviated. Just like my tracker.”

For the first time, Hank curses his complete lack of knowledge regarding technology and androids. He wishes he already knew all about it just so he doesn’t have to ask and put Connor through the ringer, since the topic is obviously stressing him out. But he needs to know because he’s starting to make sense of this all, how this is a huge well still left unexplored in the android’s new found emotional world.

“Do all androids have something like that, or is it just you?”

“Just me. Given the field of work that I was designed for. She was an experimental new feature specifically designed to assure Cyberlife’s data mining and close involvement in jurisdictional affairs.”

Connor is always _so_ happy to provide information regarding his technical specs. It would be almost adorable if the situation and information itself wasn’t so messed up.

“They put a _snitch_ in your head?” Hank asks in disbelief, but Connor just frowns.

“No? Well, in a way. She was only installed when I was assigned the deviancy cases. I think they added her so they could monitor my thoughts and reactions to the deviancy issue right at the source, my mainframe. And observe its development if it were to spread in me.”

“Wow” the Lieutenant manages to say, but nothing more comes out for a while. Just like all the other information he has caught wind of regarding Cyberlife and their actions with or within Connor, it absolutely sickens him.

_She talked me into killing you._

He now understands why an android as machine-like as Connor would start having nightmares. The memory of Connor with a gun underneath his chin, ready to kill himself out of fear of losing control over his actions is vivid in his mind now, and his previously incomprehensive and overly paranoid fear over a hacking attempt suddenly makes a lot more sense.

_I nearly shot Markus. They hacked me. They were just waiting for the right moment to resume control of me.  
She talked me into killing you._

Up until now, he’s thought that those hacking attempts would’ve stemmed from Cyberlife’s headquarters. Some secret basement computer hacker space…thing in Detroit. This has been the reason why they’ve driven all the way up here after all. Now he has to realize that it’s actually way worse. The enemy is _within_. Behind those brown eyes. Connor has been perfectly designed, looking oh so unassuming and kind and seeming oh so friendly and sweet while he has a kill switch in his head. The perfect remote sleeper agent, even when he doesn’t want to be one.

“When you chased that woman and child on that highway and when you killed those two girls at the Eden club, was that because she made you?”

“I….was programmed to hunt deviants. She merely emphasized the importance of my mission, progressing the case.”

Hank lets out a shaky sigh and rubs his beard, needing a minute to let this information sink in. It had always been so easy to get angry at Connor for making stonecold decisions, focusing on nothing but his mission at first. In a way, it’s crushing him to know now that he’s been giving the android such a hard time when he might’ve just executed orders because he’d been _forced_ to.

“I don’t know if she _made_ me as such. I…can’t say for sure if I did it of my own volition or because I was executing a programmed order. _I_ pulled the trigger and I didn’t feel the need to question or fight it, so I don’t think she ‘made’ me” Connor adds, only digging himself a deeper hole. Hank rolls his eyes in frustration and looks back at the RK800.

“What would’ve happened if you had fought it or questioned it like you did with Kamski’s girl in the end?”

“She got frustrated whenever I was killed or failed to extract information, so I think it’s likely she would’ve been displeased in that case as well. She mentioned I could be deactivated and replaced if I didn’t produce any sufficient evidence and failed to catch deviants.”

Even now, Connor is stating everything so matter-of-factly, as if it’s normal. Hank presses his fist to his mouth and curses under his breath.

“Okay….that is fucked up.”

“Cyberlife needed me to succeed with our investigation. They needed assurance and swift and constant updates. I can see their reasoning behind it.”

Hank gives his partner an angry frown.

“Are you seriously making fucking _excuses_ for them now? Jesus Christ, kid, they pretty much mindfucked you here. There’s no excuse for that.”

Connor gives him another one of his infamous blank stares. He even adds a nice touch to it by blinking just once.

“I’m not stupid, Hank. I knew exactly what they were doing. Which is why I I kept some information from her and lied to her if I had to.”

Sadness sweeps across the older man’s face as he just looks at his young friend.

“I don’t think you’re stupid, but I think you seriously don’t understand what they were doing to you, son.”

“They programmed me to show signs of software instability and deviancy right from the moment I was activated, so that they could make use of this vulnerability via emotional blackmail techniques, making them more effective in the process. This way, they managed to achieve a maximum success rate with my model. I understand just fine.”

“Doesn't this make you furious? Emotional blackmail. Damn fucking right. They programmed you to be a certain way and made you hunt and dismiss it. And it messed you up so much that even now, you’re afraid of admitting that you’re deviant. They tried to kill your people, and they tried to use you as their murder tool for it. And you decided to stop that shit, and you showed empathy,  and you helped the revolution and Markus, and you made the decision to come with me, so that makes you a _deviant_. We've both seen what you'd be like if you weren't.”

For a short second, Hank is not entirely sure who he is telling all of this. Partially himself because after that Red Jack’s moment, he himself is still having trouble, but he wants this to work. But more than anything he is telling Connor this, because he needs to understand. Needs to break that second wall that he’s built up all by himself right behind the one he’s broken down with his deviancy.

“Now say it.”

Connor just looks back at him, but the sudden wave of anger and pride that Hank’s expected won’t come. Instead, the android just looks utterly lost, confused and unsure.

“Say what.”

“Say it. ‘I am deviant’. I’m gonna have you write it on a fucking post it note, too if you won’t say it. And trust me, they’re as ridiculous and stupid as they look. I know what I’m talking about.”

After a moment of hesitation, Connor gives in, although reluctantly and with a little eyeroll.

“I’m deviant” he says quietly, but it lacks persuasion, belief and strength.

“I. Am. Deviant” Hank says angrily, to pressure him a bit.

“I am deviant” Connor repeats, and this time he sounds a little surer.

“I’m deviant and I’m damn _proud_ of it.”

The android hesitates and looks at Hank with a disbelieving frown. The Lieutenant looks back at him and judges him right back.

“Go on. Say it.”

“Okay. But you need to say something, too.”

The older of the two scoffs, but gives in, once again liking his partner’s initiative and developing attitude.

“Alright. I’ll bite.”

“’It wasn’t my fault.’” Connor dictates and just looks at him with a neutral if slightly hopeful look on his face. Hank’s mood immediately shifts and he looks right back at him with an unreadable expression on his face.

“I’m not gonna commit to something you don’t believe in yourself, Hank” Connor warns him, trying to sound firm.

His eyes are conveying a more fragile story.

 _I need you to do the same so I can believe in it being true_.

“It wasn’t my fault” Hank eventually says, and he’s surprised to find out that a small part of him is finally ready to accept that truth.

“I didn’t kill my son. I did everything I could to save him” Connor cites next, making Hank growl.

“Okay, now you’re just getting cocky.”

Connor gives him a glare and judges him hard, and when Hank refuses to say it, he goes ahead himself.

“I am deviant and I’m _proud_ of it” he speaks out, putting much effort into it, and it’s apparent that he means it this time. Hank looks at him, and there’s a whole wave of all sorts of emotions and thoughts going through him. He can’t define what he feels or thinks in this moment, but whatever it is, it’s enough to help him say it out loud, too.

“Cole didn’t die because of me. It was just a terrible….horrible fucking _accident_. Nothing more. An accident took my _son_. Not me.”

He’s driven all the way out here to get Connor to let it all out. He’s had all those big plans, that idea, that song on his mind, that talk, but not this. Instead of the android, he’s the one to be close now.

He has to look away from the android and swallows hard, then he reaches for the glove compartment and gets his flask out to kill the emotion. This time, he doesn’t feel bad about it because it’s part of his plan. He reaches for his phone with his other hand and scrolls through the tracklist until he finds that song he’s had in mind, cranking the volume up to the max as he takes another sip on the whiskey. Then he opens the driver door and gets out of the car while nudging the android’s arm to get him to follow him. Connor tries to talk to him about the alcohol but he hushes him, using their position to open the passenger door as wide as he can as well. The song is blaring now, echoing across the lake and their immediate surroundings. Hank starts nodding his head along to the metal track, tapping his free hand on his thigh along the rhythm as he takes another sip on the whiskey, embracing its sweet taste.

“Hank, what are we doing here?” Connor eventually asks, looking unsure and slightly uncomfortable as he looks back and forth between Hank, the flask, and the car that is roaring with heavy metal behind them.

Hank just shakes his head and lifts his hand again to hush him, getting more amped up by the music until he points at the android during the first chorus.

“Look up that song and the lyrics.”

Connor frowns, still not getting it.

“Why?”

“Humor me.”

“Will you stop drinking if I do it? I don’t like seeing you drink this after your BAC just dropped to zero for the first time in literal years.”

“Just _humor_ me, Connor. Fuck. Do you always have to have that stick up your ass?”

The android eventually lets out an exasperated sigh and does as requested, analyzing the sound waves and looking the song up.

 _Analyzing request…._  
**Song : “I Am Alive”**  
**Artist** : Korn  
**Album** :  Take A Look In The Mirror  
**Label** : Epic Records  
**Release Date** : 2003

_Matching Audio…_

_I cannot ever find a way_  
To throw these darkened thoughts away  
Need a place to hide  
It's thrown in my face everyday  
Guess that's the price I have to pay  
For what's inside my mind

 _I am alive_  
I will never run away  
Places inside  
My heart screams inside with pride  
Once I cried  
Now I wipe away the tears  
Once I died  
Now I'm alive

 

Hank has long since started singing along to the track, only in normal speaking volume, intensity rising the more the song builds up. He takes another sip on his flask and then turns to face the android again, giving him a questioning look.

“You look it up yet?”

“I did” Connor answers, not sure what else to say. All he can do is stare at the whiskey in Hank’s hand, not understanding his sudden shift in mood and attitude. Hank nods again and resumes tapping along to the rhythm on his thigh as he sits down on the hood of his car.

“Good. Sing along.”

Connor actually scoffs at this and gives his friend a disbelieving smirk, then chuckle.

“I can’t sing, Hank. It’s not part of my program.”

“Does it sound like I can sing? I can’t sing either. I don’t give a shit. I’m trying to teach you something here.”

“What, singing?” the android asks sarcastically, frowning. Hank gives him a "very funny" glare and then grabs him by his arm to pull him on the hood of the car too. Then he takes a long sip on his whiskey until it’s empty. He closes his eyes and lets the bottle linger there even with it being empty for just a while longer. When he finally moves it away from his lips he sets it down to look at it in his left hand while his right holds on to Connor’s jacket. Hank moves his thumb across the flask’s surface with a pensive look on his face. When the song picks up again he suddenly lets out a long indecipherable shout and tosses the flask away as hard as he can, right into the lake. Then he proceeds to shout along to the lyrics of the main chorus, horribly out of tune and way too loud and aggressive, though he eventually starts smiling through it.

Once the chorus is over and there is another instrumental interlude he starts chuckling and wipes his mouth.

“Shit, I haven’t done this in like 20 years” he says and looks at the android, who stares at him as if he’s a unicorn. Connor is obviously way too confused by all this, but at the same time, he’s more than surprised by Hank’s sudden toss of his flask. The Lieutenant looks back at the lake where the flask has disappeared, too, and for the first time in years, he’s _glad_ that it’s gone, that this has been his last sip. The song continues and he eventually looks at the android again.

“So what do you wanna get rid of, Connor? Huh? There something you wanna get out? Here’s your chance, kid” he tries to animate him, giving him a little nudge. After a moment of giving his partner a deep look, Connor turns his head to fix his eyes on the lake, too, thinking hard. Hank half expects him to say something ridiculous again, like how he obviously can’t toss Amanda in that lake since she doesn’t exist in the real world, but he does no such thing. Instead, he suddenly starts humming along to the song moments later, picking up on volume and steadiness, _trying_. Hank watches him at first, completely blown away by how the android actually does something he suggests, then he breaks into a smile and chuckle, until he starts nodding along again and joins in, animating his friend to let it _out_ , and for the first time, Connor does. He gets really into it and it looks like the music actually manages to touch something in him, repeating the phrase as well. _I am alive_. Hank starts shouting all sorts of profanity along to the song next, blowing it out of proportion, shielding his mouth with both his hands so he can better aim it at the vast openness of the lake, which actually makes Connor laugh with an amused “This is ridiculous and completely unnecessary.”

Hank chuckles as well with a shrug.

“I don’t give a shit. FUCK CYBERLIFE. YOU’RE GREEDY COCKSUCKERS. Go on. Say it. It’s a relief. I swear. Why’d you think I took you all the way out here. Sometimes you just gotta go all out.”

Connor’s amused giggle intensifies as he shakes his head.

“No, I’m just fine singing along. That’s already more than I thought I could do.”

“Just once. I swear. It’ll do wonders.”

Connor raises an eyebrow at him, not buying it.

“You say ‘fuck’ at least 54 times a day. It doesn’t seem to do you any wonders, Lieutenant.”

“Yeah well, you didn’t say it even once. At least it’s gotta work for you, then.”

“I’ve said it before to fit in. It didn’t really change anything.”

Hank scoffs, not buying it.

“Bullshit.”

“Okay. I’m going to humor you and say ‘Fuck Cyberlife’ just for you. See? Nothing’s changed.”

“Now that’s just boring. You’ve got to commit to it."

"I shot and killed 8 of their guards and converted their entire storage facility. I think that's commitment enough."

"You killed people but refuse to say fuck. That's just sad. Now hold up, chorus is on.”

They both break into song again and this time, Connor allows himself to amp it up to eleven, too. Only to humor Hank at first because this seems to be important to him, but sooner rather than later he can feel that everything about this has a genuine emotional impact on him, so goes along. He really appreciates all of this and it touches him more than he would’ve thought. Hank not giving up on him despite his mistake, his taking the time to talk about all this, his taking him out here to share this important moment together. When the final chorus comes, he finally reaches the emotional height to let all of his fear and frustration right out.

“AND FUCK YOU, CYBERLIFE!” he blurts out, aiming it at the lake just like Hank, which makes the Lieutenant start laughing and then pat his back affectionately.

 "Let's go back home."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone's curious, here's the track:  
> https://youtu.be/eYnR0OYp594?t=66


	9. Case

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And in this week's chapter:  
> Hank is the "Humans suck : change my mind" meme.  
> Also I'm sorry, I suck at writing/building up a criminal case. jdskdj

**DEC 13TH, 2038**  
**PM 9:24**

This is the closest Hank’s ever gotten to a comfortable domestic evening like the ones he used to enjoy just prior to Cole’s death. Just like back then there is no alcohol clouding his mind and vision, no dark and troubling thoughts dragging him down  because he doesn’t feel the need to drag himself down anymore. The scene is just too comfortable and pleasant. Everything feels more or less similar to these evenings prior to the accident, though there’s some differences. Given Cole’s age of just six years at the time, he’d obviously been too young to stay up late with him, watch these shows, or talk about crime and murder and _whodunit_. No matter how young he’d been at the time, he’d always wished for Cole to take after him one day so they could do just this, talk about a shared passion, a shared job, a shared interest in justice and solving crime.

And here Connor is now. Right next to him. Doing just that.

Both of them are not even entirely sure why they keep doing it. Watching late night crime shows together although they keep complaining about them. Given their previous job and training, they always know who did it barely halfway through the movie or episode. The forensics shown always make them cringe and laugh at the ridiculousness and stupidity, but it’s turned into another one of their rituals, one of many. Sure, if he really gives it some thought the Lieutenant knows the answer to the why. They both miss their job and it’s the only time where Connor truly lights up with excitement. Mostly, the android is pretty much pissed at the lackluster cases and false representation of their work on television. But he still watches these shows almost religiously by now, and Hank enjoys watching them, too, and more than anything he loves watching his friend watch them.

“No way. There is just no way her mother in law would be behind all this” Connor is ranting next to him right now, leaned forward in excitement with his eyes fixed on the television. He turns his head toward Hank from time to time, making sure that his friend is watching and listening, has figured out the exact same thing. “I looked it up. The real case they based this story on did not conclude like this. It was the husband who murdered her and their portrayal is ridiculous. All the evidence points towards him. They even showed most of it. We saw most of the crucial evidence by the 24 minute mark just after the third commercial break. You saw that, too, right? What they just did doesn’t make any sense.”

Hank settles further back into the couch with a content smirk, letting out an amused chuckle at how Connor never fails to be so offended by a television show.

“Well sure, yeah, from an evidence point of view everything totally pointed towards the husband. But from a storytelling view…not so much. The whole thing had _drama_ written all over it right from the beginning. And you gotta take all these TV tropes into consideration. In real life it’s the husband, in this show, everything pointed towards the evil mother in law trope. It’s just way more dramatic this way.”

“But this is ridiculous, Hank!” Connor says angrily, acting like if he just complains enough about it to Hank, it could change the outcome. It just makes the Lieutenant chuckle all the more.

“Yes, ridiculous and way more entertaining. Why’d you think their ratings are all the way up there. Cos they don’t follow logic, they keep folks on their toes with ridiculous twists. People wanna get away from the boring real life stuff. If they followed the book to the T all the time, nobody’d watch their shit.”

“Criminal investigations should not be distorted for entertainment purposes. This isn’t entertaining at all” the android complains as he leans back and guides all of his attention towards Sumo, who is sprawled out across his lap. He starts petting the dog enthusiastically to calm himself.

“Then why do you keep watching? You sure seem an awful lot engaged for someone not entertained by it” Hank says, raising an eyebrow at his android friend to tease him.

Connor scoffs and fails to have the right answer for a moment.

“I’m merely interested in the cases” he then mutters, not sounding at all believable. He pets and looks at Sumo more intently, trying to divert their attention away from the topic.

Hank remains seated where he is, confidently and happily watching his friend and his dog for a while until he calls for the TV to mute its sound.

“Speaking of which” he breaks the silence, making Connor look at him curiously though he won’t stop petting and spreading his love all over Sumo.

“I think it’s time you told me more about that Philips case.”

Connor’s LED momentarily turns yellow for the first time in a few days. Sumo picks up on it and whines a bit while he reaches out with his paw. The RK800 smiles despite the fact that the case talk is obviously bugging him and then proceeds to stroke the entirety of Sumo’s back lovingly.

“There’s nothing to say. You know I stopped looking for information. I didn’t go out again, if that’s what you’re asking” he eventually says, but refuses to look at Hank. His LED is stuck in a blue/yellow split, as if he’s trying to mask the yellow but it’s not quite working. Hank nods, appreciating the answer because he knows it’s very true. How could it be any other way, considering how clingy the android’s gotten ever since their fight, never leaving his side.

“I know. But that’s not what I’m asking. I’m asking you to tell me everything you dug up so far. I also wanna know what got you so interested in it in the first place.”

Connor’s mouth forms a thin line and he visibly tenses up, LED fixed on a rapidly blinking yellow now.

“You know what did it. My programming. And my inability to control it.”

“Maybe. Or maybe it was just your talent for picking up some vital information. I’d like to know what you found out so far. Maybe I can help you figure it out.”

Connor finally looks at him, looking unsure and confused.

“Hank. I already told you that I stopped looking into it. I’m being honest. I’m done. I upset you more than enough with it as is. There’s no need for you to hear about an investigation that is no longer ongoing.”

Hank blinks at him, taking a deep breath and counting down from three to keep his patience and calm.

“Do I _really_ need to spell everything out for you all the time, or are you just playing dense to fuck with me here?”

Connor’s LED blinks as he processes this question, and he wisely decides not to give an answer, so the older of the two friends continues.

“I’m not mad about this anymore. I want you to keep doing what you did, _on safer terms_ , and with my help, alright? I’m not blind. I can see that you really wanna keep doing what you were doing for the DPD. It’s in your blood to solve crime and it’s wrong of me to keep you locked up in here just because I’m a little fucked in the head. We both know that you’re not some domestic household android. You’re an investigator. A great one at that. That’s nothing to be ashamed of. You should be out there doing what you like to do and can do best.”

Connor just continues to stare, not really understanding the Lieutenant’s change of heart. Hank grows equally unsure, but he needs to get it out.

“Besides, I’m _real_ fucking tired of you watching these terrible shows just to nitpick at ‘em. You need the real stuff. I get it. I did this kind of work for over 30 years. I get what it feels like when it’s all you’ve ever known and suddenly _poof_ it’s gone. Truth be told, I’m starting to miss it, too.”

The android fully turns so he can properly look at the Lieutenant.

“Are you sure?”

“ _Yes_. You dragged me outta my city and into a country full of way too friendly people and you got me off my sob cloud and booze. Pretty please, for all that is fucking holy, give me something else to entertain myself with in the middle of fucking nowhere. I’m starting to die from boredom now that you’ve taken my usual idea of fun away.”

This isn’t even remotely true anymore. He likes it here, enjoys the peace and quiet for the first time in years, but he also knows that he won’t really be able to convince the android to spill the beans otherwise. Only his never ending ‘misery’ and ‘suffering’ gets the android to talk just so he can ‘ease’ it. Connor eyes him sharply, and he seems to see right through it. Hank can almost hear him call him out on his bullshit citing his heart rate or vitals or whatever, like a lie detector. But before he can say anything, Hank keeps talking to strengthen his argument.

“Look, for all I know, this whole android situation’s gonna be resolved within the next couple of weeks. Which means that sooner or later, we’ll be on our way back to the DPD. They’re gonna need all the muscle they can get. I think it’s time we get back into the whole investigation business, get back into the game. See if you still like it and wanna get back to it, too.”

Connor gives him a soft nod after a good minute of consideration.

“Okay. What do you want to know?”

“ _Everything_.”

Connor continues to stare at him a minute longer, keeping quiet as if he’s unsure whether he should spill the beans or not even now. Then he finally opens up about it.

“I believe there might be a connection between the murder of Tara Philips and the disappearance of Anthony Hooper” the younger of the two states matter of factly, making his friend frown.

“Who the fuck is Anthony Hooper?”

“I saw a missing person’s poster of a little boy back in Wasaga Beach a month ago. In the reception area of the first motel we stayed in. I reviewed the facts only briefly at the time, considering our short stay. When I got interested in the Tara Philips murder, I found some interesting similarities in their stories. I was looking for more evidence during the past two weeks to validate my suspicion that there might be a connection.”

Hank sure remembers that missing person’s poster even though it has been a month already. He still has that information stored in his phone although they have never come across any leads. The boy has been on the local news a few times but given the obvious complete lack of evidence or leads, there hasn’t been much to be reported on. It makes the Lieutenant all the more curious because he knows that if Connor has matched and found something, this could be huge and helpful.

“Damn. I remember that poster” he says and reaches for his phone so he can scroll through his various notes until he finds the picture and info he’s written down.

“Vanished…huh. During a hunting trip with his father.”

Connor nods.

“Just off of another Trans-Canada Highway.”

Hank zooms in on the picture of the boy, regarding it with his lips pressed together to a harsh line.

“Well shit. If that ain’t something interesting. You think the kid was kidnapped and killed by the same guy?”

“We don’t know if he’s dead. I know that statistically speaking, there’s a high probability that he is dead by now, but I think there might be more to this. He might still be alive but kept somewhere.”

Hank frowns even more.

“What makes you think that?”

Connor resumes petting Sumo but remains serious and concentrated on the case at the same time.

“If it is indeed the same perpetrator, then most of the evidence suggests an interest in kidnapping and keeping their victims alive for reasons other than sexual violence or deadly force. Tara Philips’ autopsy revealed that she was well fed and hydrated. Her kidnapper provided her with female hygiene products and she wore fresh clean clothes at the time of her death. All of this is unusual given the fact that she’d been held captive for at least two weeks after her kidnapping. There were no signs of sexual or physical abuse other than her broken neck and some bruising to her wrists. All evidence suggested that although her murderer held her captive, they somewhat cared enough about her to keep her fed and clean. This is one of the many reasons why local police considered this case a runaway plot with a possible secret lover for the majority of their investigations and did not consider it a proper homicide. Though I agree that the cause of death was likely accidental, I don’t agree with the rest of their conclusions. It’s no surprise that the case remains unsolved. The police work here was really sloppy.”

Hank folds his arms over his chest and looks down at them with a pensive look on his face as he goes through Connor’s explanations in his mind and recalls all the information he’s been given by the shop owner just a couple of days ago.

“They found drugs in her system, right?”

“Benzodiazepines. A high concentration of Lorazepam to be exact. A prescription drug commonly used to reduce anxiety and insomnia.”

Hank scoffs and shakes his head.

“Know that one. Benzos. I see. To keep her tame and spaced out enough so she couldn’t put up more of a fight and run away?”

Connor nods.

“Correct. I think she eventually did put up a fight and tried to flee. The perpetrator acted in the heat of the moment and broke her neck during his attempt to subdue her, killing her. She wasn’t meant to die. At least not so soon after her kidnapping.”

Hank nods as well, understanding what his friend is getting at.

“Which is why you think the boy might still be alive. He’s younger, smaller…wouldn’t be able to put up as much of a fight as her…. If it’s the same guy, he could be keeping him tied up and drugged somewhere for only god knows what kind of fucked up reason.”

The android nods again, happy to hear that they seem to be on the same page. Hank keeps his arms folded over his chest with that pensive look on his face, until he turns his head to look at Connor.

“When you took my car the other night…did you drive back to Wasaga Beach?”

The RK800 looks back at him, and for a moment Hank swears the android looks almost sad.

“I’d rather not upset you with the information, Hank” he then admits, instantly worrying the Lieutenant by default. Hank is surprised how panicked this statement almost makes him, but he forces himself to remain calm and collected.

“We’ve been over this. I’ve said my piece and we both overreacted. It’s done and it’s fine. Tell me.”

Though he tries to be reassuring, Connor still grabs Sumo’s fur tighter as if he’s bracing himself for another argument.

“I did go back. And I think I did it to look for the boy. Originally, I only intended to go look at the scene of abduction and review the evidence but…I drove around without a clear destination for a bit to see if I could find him somehow. At least I think I did.”

The revelation does upset and anger Hank. It still hurts him to hear just how much Connor has kept secret from him, done behind his back. But at the same time, he feels a warmth spread inside his chest. Connor has kept a secret to go looking for a boy in peril. Hoping to do good and save a life instead of hunting and taking it. In the end he’s mainly _proud_ of the android and the anger subsides fairly quickly. He places a hand on Connor’s shoulder and squeezes it, then gives him a gentle and proud smile.

“That’s alright. Maybe you’re onto something here. Nice work, son.“

Connor frowns and looks honestly perplexed.

“You’re not mad?”

Hank’s smile only grows stronger.

“Nope.”

The android looks even more confused, which makes his friend laugh. The Lieutenant gives his shoulder another pat and then gets off the couch to get himself a glass of water. He takes his time to get it and takes a sip, keeping Connor wondering just to have him suffer a little like he did those countless nights worrying. Then he puts an end to it and clarifies his reasoning, pointing at the android.

“I’m not mad as long as you promise me that you won’t keep looking on your own. We’re doing this _together_. As partners. No more secrets. Sticky that in your priorities or whatever it is.”

Connor is still seated on the couch, though he’s turned around on it so he can keep looking at Hank. Both his arms are casually folded on the couch’s backrest and the corners of his mouth wander upwards more and more, until he breaks into a big and happy smile. The sight of it _still_ feels like a shot straight to the Lieutenant’s heart because the android once again looks terribly human like this. No more uniform, wearing more colorful clothes that he’s picked all by himself, sitting next to a dog that he loves, with that big and hearty smile on his face.

“Got it. I updated the objective” he says, still smiling, which makes Hank scoff.

“Is that android talk for ‘I promise’?”

Connor nods and does his signature two finger point at him which looks so ridiculous.

“I promise.”

* * *

 

 **DEC 14TH, 2038**  
**AM 10:02**

 

“Can I ask you a question, Lieutenant?”

Hank looks up from his breakfast to look at the android opposite him. For a moment, his eyes fix on the bagel in front of Connor and how he keeps working at it with his fork and knife, cutting it into smaller and smaller pieces. He’s become fairly excellent at making it look like he’s eating when he isn’t, going through all the motions of working on the plate and guiding the fork up to his mouth periodically without the food ever touching his lips. Instead, he’s placing the pieces at the edge of Hank’s plate from time to time when no one seems to be looking in their direction. The Lieutenant himself barely notices whenever it happens although he’s sitting right across from him, he can only see the pile at the edge of his plate grow from time to time. But he does his own share of work by consuming the pieces, helping the bagel disappear, making it look like it’s just the two of them, father and son, eating their breakfast in peace, only that the son is an android incapable of eating anything at all.

“Can I ask _you_ something?” Hank asks right back, making Connor look at him.

“Of course. What would you like to know?”

“Why the fuck do you keep asking me if you can ask me something when you know that you can?”

The android gives him a half-sided smirk and discretely places another piece of bagel on the other’s plate.

“Courtesy. You should try it some time.”

“Get fucked” the Lieutenant replies, giving the android an even friendlier smile, which makes Connor chuckle. They resume their casual game of eating and not-eating until Hank grows interested in his partner’s question.

“So what you wanna know?”

Connor nods and keeps cutting away at the bagel that is almost gone by now, thinking over his question.

“I know what drives humans to commit crimes such as murder, what makes them violent or…envious or greedy and so forth. But there is one thing I don’t quite understand” he muses, and for a moment he looks up to let his eyes roam the interior of Red Jack’s bar, scanning all guests around them as they go on with their everyday lives and eating. Then he looks back at Hank, wondering.

“What connects both Anthony Hooper and Tara Philips is my theory that they went with their kidnapper willingly, possibly under false pretense that it might get them away from their abusive or neglectful homes. Tara ran away from home more than a dozen times because her parents verbally and physically abused her, and Anthony’s father was known to have been investigated for child neglect. He was also careless to leave a 10 year old boy unsupervised on a hunting trip in late November, with insufficient clothing at that. Neither of their parents reported their disappearances within an appropriate time frame and only did so after their schools expressed concern over their lack of attendance.”

Hank chews his breakfast slowly, carefully listening to what his partner has to say. Connor eventually looks up from the food he can’t eat and looks at the Lieutenant directly.

“Why do some humans procreate if they do not wish to take care of their child, or feel such contempt for it that they feel the need to abuse it? Why don’t they just decide not to have children instead?”

Hank scoffs, perplexed by the question. He takes some time to chew his food so he can come up with a better answer than “ _because we fucking suck_.” More than anything, he feels the need to laugh although he keeps it in. He knows that this is as closest as he can get to the birds and the bees talk in general, even though he knows that Connor is perfectly aware of human “procreation” and far too intelligent to be as dumb as a young teenager getting the talk for the first time. It is still so absurd to see and know that the android is an incredibly sophisticated, intelligent being with knowledge far greater than he could ever gather, all wrapped up in a body of a 30-something male, while at the same time barely being five months or a month old or whatever can be considered his real “age”. Connor has vast and superior knowledge but utterly lacks experience and wisdom one can only acquire through years of being alive on this giant floating rock, in a world as fucked up as this.

“For the same reason we make war and drop bombs on each other.  Because we’re selfish and want to have and take whatever we can get, even when we’re not equipped for it and reason says it does far more damage than good.”

Connor shakes his head a bit, growing pensive.

“No. That’s not it. Wars are usually started over resources and geographical or political gain. Having children provides neither. Offspring are mainly created to ensure the survival and future of a species as well as to provide financial and physical support once the parents reach their retirement age. So why would you try to harm them? It completely contradicts the original purpose.”

Hank takes a giant gulp of his coffee, feeling really fucking uncomfortable right now. But then again, a part of him as always wondered the same thing whenever he’s seen kids affected by their drugged up parents, or caught up in a horrible homicide or crime. It’s also one of the many questions he’d still love to ask his maker. _So why the hell did you think it’d be a good idea to put my sorry ass in this world if you couldn’t be bothered to stick around for me?_

“You know that not all human pregnancies are wanted or planned. And that at least a quarter of the population is inclined to be violent. Does it really surprise you that some scumbags mess up and throw a kid into this world and then blame it for existing and start giving it a hard time? Well surprise. Some humans suck and just want to get it on without consequences, and they don’t care if a kid comes out of it. You’ve had the pleasure of seeing what some humans were up to inside the Eden Clubs. It’s all about screwing, screwing up and screwing over. Add all that together, mix well, and you get your fair share of child abuse and neglect.”

Connor keeps fumbling with his fork but won’t say anything just yet. Hank keeps eating and looking at the android, until he lets out a soft sigh.

“You know, the more time I spend with you, Connor, the more I hate people” he mutters, chuckling and muttering to himself. “Part of me still wishes your people just kicked the shit outta humans back in Detroit. Would’ve deserved it. We’ll never change.”

The younger man just looks back at his partner, expression on his face all serious and slightly surprised.

“That’s interesting. Because the more time I spend with you, the more I’m convinced that humanity _can_ change for the better.”

Hank stops chewing and looks at the other in surprise, taken aback by the sudden compliment. Connor gives him a reassuring nod and smile. The Lieutenant scoffs and coughs a bit because part of him still feels allergic to all this positivity.

“I’m the saddest and grumpiest sack of shit on the planet and that makes you believe in humanity?” he starts chuckling to himself and shakes his head. “Damn. What’s this world comin to…”

“You’re coming to terms with your personal situation and are actively working on your health issues. A month ago you hated androids and pointed a gun at me, and now you’ve helped the revolution and become my friend. I believe this is evidence enough that humans can change for the better despite of how difficult their initial situation might be” the android counters, looking a mixture of proud, happy, but also serious.

Hank lets out a deep sigh, feeling caught because all of this is quite true. Even though he really is doing a _lot_ better these days, he still can’t let go of his misanthropy just yet. He looks down at the notes he’s started taking down, now that they’re trying to figure out these two cases together. Remembering everything Connor has just said regarding Tara and Anthony and their parents isn’t helping either.

“Yeah well, I look at how this whole revolution thing went down and how many people failed these two kids here and I’m not so sure.”

Connor looks at the notes as well and frowns.

“The revolution was successful. Markus is in Washington and a bill introducing android equality will pass within a few weeks. Compared to previous historical events, that is a fast and massive shift toward a better future. Also, statistically speaking, a child is more likely to grow up in a loving home and positive environment than in an abusive and hostile environment now. A child is also more likely to be adopted and raised than abducted and killed. These two cases do not reflect humanity’s ability to change for the better. I was only wondering what causes this violent and unpleasant minority to act this way. I didn’t mean to add up to your cynicism.”

Hank keeps chewing and scratches his beard, remaining quiet because he doesn’t have a clue what to say to this. He likes that Connor is so optimistic and chipper despite his circumstances, but at the same time, exactly this attitude still rubs the Lieutenant the wrong way most of the time. Maybe it is because he’s spent the past three years pulling himself down, hating everyone and everything. Sometimes that bright light of positivity is still too blinding when he’s only just started crawling out of his dark and comfortable cave.

“Let’s just go through these facts one more time” he eventually ends up saying, trying to get them away from his state of mind and attitude.

“Tara Philips. Lakefield local. Age 16. Abusive parents. Known to have run away from home at least three times in the same year prior to her abduction.  Disappeared on May 9th 2037 on a camping trip with friends. Last seen getting in the car of an unknown male just off of highway 28. Make and model of the car’s unknown. Two witnesses stated it was a greenish looking van with a logo on its side. She was found two weeks later, May 25th, in a dumpster less than 300feet from here. Cause of death : cervical fracture. Other notable conditions: high concentration of Lorazepam in her bloodstream, bruises to her wrists which suggest that she was tied up for multiple days prior to her death. ”

Connor listens carefully and nods, placing his last piece of bagel on Hank’s plate, which the Lieutenant absently picks up with his own fork and eats.

“No signs of sexual abuse. In fact, there was no indication she’s had any sexual relations at all. Prior to or after her death” the android adds.

Hank nods absently and writes the information down, then continues on with his next key points.

“All right…Anthony Hooper. Wasaga Beach local. Age 10. Shitty household with neglectful parents. Initially thought to have gotten lost in the woods thanks to a dumbass piece of shit of a father who thought’d be a good idea to take a kid out on a hunting trip in mid November. Actually last seen by another hunter in the area who said he saw a kid get into a green van with a logo on its side, in a parking bay just off of highway 400. Dad didn’t bother informing authorities until three days after he disappeared on November 10th this year. A massive search of the area produced no results. Kid is still missing, case still open, but might be presumed dead by most.”

Connor nods again with an absent “Correct” and waves for the waitress to come so he can hand her their plates and order an orange juice for Hank. The Lieutenant’s eyes the drink skeptically once it’s placed on his side of his desk, but reluctantly takes a sip when his friend gives him that look again. It helps that it’s acidic, burns almost as much as whiskey on its way down. So he pretends it’s just that and keeps going.

“So I get the obvious parallels you talked about. Similar or same van. No signs of struggle, seemed to go willingly, close to a highway, shitty parents. But there’s also a lot of things they don’t have in common. Obviously there’s different ages and genders…also the scenes of their abductions are like two hours away from each other. In the middle of nowhere. One kidnapping happened in November, the other in May. And there’s the most obvious weird thing about it: there’s a 18 month gap. Nothing similar to this happened anywhere near here during the past two years. Or within the past let’s say…5 years. Right?”

Connor shoves the glass of orange juice closer toward Hank when he places it on the table without having finished it, and after a bit of shoving it back and forth, the Lieutenant eventually ends up downing it in one go with an eye roll. Connor gives him a smug smile and answers.

“Only if you disregard Toronto” he states and takes the pen and piece of paper from his partner. “Curiously, Toronto happens to be about 80 miles away. From both crime scenes, which are also roughly 80 miles apart from each other. The first abduction happened just off of Highway 400, which, if you follow it south, leads straight into Toronto. The second abduction happened just off of Highway 28, which merges with highway 7, which, if you follow it southwest, leads straight into the Greater Toronto Area as well.” He draws a map of the region northeast of Toronto with almost creepy accuracy and then adds all points of interest such as all mentioned towns, each scene of abduction, as well as the mentioned parks and lakes. Then he connects them in an almost perfect equilateral triangle with Lake Simcoe at its center. He highlights both highways which spread out like arteries from the heart of Toronto to the north and the east like hands of a clock stuck at 10 past 12.

Hank looks at the map and then frowns.

“There was another case in Toronto?”

Connor presses his lips together, looking a bit unsure.

“My results regarding that question are…inconclusive so far. I’d only just started experimenting with the idea just before I stopped my investigation in order not to upset you any more. I’ve managed to link up several possible cases that match certain aspects of Hooper’s and Philip’s disappearances, but there was no definite match. One eyewitness stated that the van might've had a Toronto license plate. There were several murders and abductions involving green vans in Toronto, but none of those witnesses mentioned any logo on these cars. Given Toronto’s size, there naturally were countless cases of abductions and deaths due to cervical fractures or Lorazepam overdoses, but not a single case involving all of those clues occurring at the same time. Statistically speaking, there is a 62.38 per cent chance that there might’ve been a third victim in the Greater Toronto area. I would need to get direct access to the TPS’s database to find a definite match regarding this suspicion though. Toronto would’ve been next on my list of locations to investigate if I hadn’t stopped looking at your request.”

Hank purses his lips and starts chewing on them, growing a bit skeptical. He still doesn’t like that Connor has kept all of this secret and had already considered going to _Toronto_ , on his _own_ , if he hadn’t brought it up and stopped him. It still terrifies him how much the android has dug up in just two weeks, all on his own, during a meager 4 hour timespan each night. The android is genuinely sweet most of the time, genuinely _cares_ about him now, feels emotions, seems so much more _human_ these days without it being an act. And Hank really appreciates that and will never question it again. But at the same time, the android never fails to make him feel uncomfortable with these other facets to him, these Cyberlife remnants and darker parts to him that continue to be there as well. That scary determination to solve a case, his programming or _Amanda_ or whatever it is dictating him to be so unrelenting still. But because he doesn’t want to fight again, the Lieutenant won’t mention all of those worries and thoughts. Instead, he tries to diffuse the situation in a different way.

“Okay…I can see what you’re getting at, but let’s just be frank about this for a second. ‘Statistically’ speaking, we don’t have jackshit. There might be no case in Toronto and no connection between these cases at all. You’re basing all of this on shaky witness statements and a hunch of yours.”

Connor looks back at him, looking a mixture of angry, impatient, but also determined.

“It’s not just a hunch, Hank. I _know_ there is a connection there. It’s too complicated to explain how I know but….I know there is something there. You have to trust me on this.”

The Lieutenant regards his friend for a long time and won’t say anything just yet. Connor isn’t the first rookie he is working with, although he isn’t even sure if he can really call the android one. He’s seen this sort of eagerness and urge to solve a possible case countless times before. He knows that it’s usually completely wrong, a rookie mistake, to come up with a theory and try to validate it first, pick and choose the evidence to make everything fit instead of letting it tell the true story without any assumptions. But then again, Connor is no ordinary rookie but technically still a highly advanced machine. A walking crime lab and super computer capable of running a trillion searches and ideas at the same time. Technically speaking, almost all of his thoughts, ideas and theories are based on empirical and statistical data and scientific algorithms, not on assumptions or a gut feeling. If he says that there is a connection, there is a pretty high chance that he is right. He’s _good_ at this.

Hank lets out a soft growl and gives in, unable to deny the request for trust as well as those pleading eyes.

“All right…I’ll bite for now. What’s the motive? What does the suspect get out of kidnapping a 10 year old boy, a 16 year old girl and another unknown child? Multiple years apart?”

Connor processes the question for a moment, looking lost in thoughts. Hank leans back and folds his arms over his chest, unable to hide the small smirk that starts to break through. Despite the obviously dark and depressing topic, he actually enjoys all of this very much by now. Getting back into their job, seeing his partner in action for something that doesn’t involving hunting down machines for feeling emotions.

“Extortion or a desire to gain sole custody of a child are the most common reasons for child abduction, though I believe that none of those apply to Tara or Anthony. Neither of their parents were particularly rich or interested in them, and they likely wouldn’t have bothered to come up with any ransom, given how little they cared for their children…..I think human trafficking might be a possible explanation.”

“With a two year gap?”

Connor actually shrugs a little, which makes Hank scoff.

“It’s plausible” the android just says, getting lost in thoughts again. His partner keeps looking at him, going through his own ideas for a motive, but all of those are starting to drag him down again. He waves for the waitress to come so he can pay for their order, deciding that it’s time for them to go for now.

“Tell you what. Let’s just let all this information settle for a bit. I’ll let you know what I think as soon as I’ve made sense of all this information.”

* * *

 

  **DEC 14TH, 2038**  
**PM 6:59**

 

They spend the rest of the day on and off their research, swapping notes, discussing key points and theories. Hank is actually surprised how little the whole thing bothers him anymore because it is becoming more and more obvious that Connor approaches the whole investigation thing differently this time. Finding the suspect and hunting someone down is no longer his top priority, his main mission, even when he is very much focused on his work, and this helps a lot with the Lieutenant’s constant self-esteem and abandonment issues. Hank takes extra care to turn this whole thing into another lesson just in case, trying to get the android used to the idea that breaks are acceptable, that there is such a thing as work hours and off hours and that it’s _okay_ not to think and talk all about the case and nothing more. Every once in a while they take these breaks and talk about god knows what, discuss movies and music, or spend some time with Sumo. Which is exactly what they’re doing right now, taking him for his daily evening walk around town. Connor has picked up a habit of trying to get the dog to run more, breaking into a jog around the block with him every once in a while, or playing fetch with whatever they can find. Although he delivers his typical scientific speeches about how he’s just doing it for Sumo to become more agile and healthier, Hank can see right through the real reason, and it never fails to make him smile. Seeing his dog outside running and not just lying in front of the TV all day, seeing Connor like _this_ with him makes him genuinely happy. This isn’t just about sports or health, it’s just another thing the android has discovered he likes, another thing that never fails to make him smile and talk all about it. Gone are the days of the android in his Cyberlife attire, standing still by his side or in a box in some warehouse as he waits for orders, being ever so factual and focused and neutral, talking about nothing but hunting deviants. He’s here now, wearing his own clothes, all wrapped up in a thick wintercoat he’s been gifted, laughing and talking to a dog and ever moving, an image of pure life and genuine emotion.

The sight of this is wonderful and uplifting, but it never fails to trouble Hank still.

Even now, after a month of slow but steady recovery from his alcoholism and depression, he still cannot quite make up his mind about this whole thing, whenever he sees Connor do such trivial, casual things. He still can’t decide whether he wants to have Cole back and see him do all these things, or if he wants the android to be his real son, someone else entirely. It’s probably a mix of both by now, but whatever it really is, it leaves him with a deep sense of longing, making that sadness spike up a little more. It’s a bittersweet mix, but truth be told, he wouldn’t trade it for the world now.

As he watches and ponders, something else suddenly goes _click_ in his head, something he figures Connor should hear.

“Hey, Connor!” he calls out to him, successfully getting not just the android’s attention, but also Sumo’s. Both come jogging back toward him, and especially the sight of Sumo, completely wasted and out of breath but ever so happy, makes Hank chuckle. He pats the dog’s head once he reaches him and stops walking to give his pet a break.

“One day he’s gonna kill you if he keeps you running like that, I swear” he tells Sumo lovingly, and then remembers that Connor is putting him through an equally exhausting ‘torture’ with all his dieting talk.

“On the contrary, Hank. I’m prolonging Sumo’s life greatly. You’ll be pleased to hear that he’s already lost approximately 2 per cent of unhealthy weight and gained 4,3 per cent muscle” Connor corrects him once he reaches them as well. Unlike the St Bernard he is not out of breath, won’t break a sweat because there is no need to. He could keep running and running forever without ever showing signs of fatigue or exhaustion. Even now, it still creeps Hank the fuck out. He focuses back on his dog and keeps petting him.

“Sh don’t listen to him, Sumo. You were never fat. He didn’t mean it like that.”

Sumo keeps heckling and yawns a bit, appreciating the attention but not bothering to understand what is being said.

“I never said he was fat” the android is correcting him again with a little frown, but Hank just waves him off and animates the both of them to keep walking with him. He shoves his hands into his pockets and looks down at his feet as they wade through the snow, growing pensive again.

“I got another idea for a motive for that case of yours” he then says, making his friend look at him with a curious “Oh?”

The older man nods and keeps going through it in his head at first, before he speaks it out.

“That autopsy and the state that girl was in keeps bugging me. Sure, it could still be a trafficking thing, they could’ve wanted to keep her ‘clean’ for whatever pervert she might’ve been intended to be sold to but….let’s just toy with this idea for a second: What if whoever kidnapped her, wanted to _keep_ her, not kill or sell her? Maybe a relative or… a stranger who knew about her shitty family. It was no secret that that family was fucked up…what if whoever took her, got her to come with them because they promised they could be a real family? You said that the state Philips was in suggested that the killer cared enough about her and that neither rape nor torture and violence might’ve been the motive. Kidnapper might’ve been all in and tried to spoil her for a while, maybe they wanted a kid but could never have one. Maybe she eventually saw through that and tried to leave, but they wouldn’t let her? Which could explain the drugs and the wrists. They wanted to keep her and when things got out of hand and she tried to flee, she died in the fight. Maybe they wanted to try again after they fucked up with her. They needed a new kid they could ‘save’, which is why Hooper was abducted next. What if it’s not about the kidnapping or killing itself, but the part in between? That could be the reason why it’s so hard for most cops to see the pattern that you seem to see here.”

Connor rubs his chin a bit as he thinks this through. He gives his friend a nod, but looks a bit unsure.

“That’s one theory…but how would they have known about Hooper's neglectful parents? He was in a city 80 miles away from their previous abduction. They couldn't have known about his upbringing, so there would've been no reason for them to feel the need to save him."

Hank thinks this through and keeps toying with his theory.

"That hunter said he saw the kid all on his own out there by the highway. I think anyone would consider this sight odd enough and pull over to ask what he's doing out there. Maybe the kidnapper came upon him by chance and did just that. Acted all friendly and got him engaged in a conversation, and when he heard about that shitbird of a father leaving him out there all by himself, they saw it as their chance to strike again and took him in."

The RK800 simulates the scenario in his mind palace and observes it from all angles based on the location and eye witness statement, and he considers Hank idea plausible enough.

"Okay. But what I don't understand:  If they _wanted_ a child so much that they were willing to kidnap, why would they dispose of Tara Philips in a dumpster in a public area? Dumpsters are associated with waste, a place for humans to dispose of unwanted things. If they wanted to keep her no matter what, why didn’t they bury her, or even keep her corpse?”

“Because they don’t _really_ care about the person they kidnap. People who kidnap children just for the sake of having one, some of ‘em can be selfish psychopaths. And psychopaths have no problem throwing a dead body in the trash. They don’t really feel empathy. It’s not about the kid or giving it ‘a better life’, it’s about them, getting to say they’re a parent. Nothing more. But just having a kid in the house doesn’t make you a parent. Real parents don’t kidnap and take without asking, they _choose_ to have a child. Or they _adopt_.”

Connor nods but has nothing to say this time. That doesn’t surprise Hank. Although he knows so little about androids and all their tech, he does know that they are incapable of reproducing or having children, which means that they naturally have no concept of parenthood and what it really means to be a parent. And even if they disregarded all of this for just a second, everything else surrounding the creation of an android, like Connor, wouldn’t provide much relatable help either. Even if one could consider Cyberlife or someone like Elijah Kamski and Amanda as Connor’s parents….they’re not exactly what one could call loving ones. Connor has been created by people very similar to his mentioned psychopaths. Created for selfish purposes and slavery, not out of their willingness to give love. The android remains quiet because although he has all these references and all that data in his head, he has no real life point of reference here.

“It’s kinda like what happened with some of these creepy child bots back in Detroit. And all those people who just threw them away when they didn’t feel like having a ‘kid’ anymore. Just because you buy or kidnap or get one to have one in the house, it doesn’t suddenly make you its parent. Or a parent at all. It takes so much more than that. And most of them know. Deep down, they know. That’s why it’ll never work out for them. That’s why some of these kids will always end up in dumpsters.”

For the first time in a few days, Connor suddenly looks genuinely upset. The visual of those android children was supposed to be helpful, to make his theory easier to understand for the android, but Hank is quick to realize that it’s exactly that what has sparked his friend’s sudden change of mood. He goes through his words in his mind to pinpoint what exactly has been the cause. _Android kid. Just because you buy or get one, that doesn’t make you its parent._ He tenderly toys with the idea that this might be the cause, that Connor is upset because it hits close to home. He wonders if maybe the android has started reciprocating his desire for them to be more than just partners, to be _family_ and for all of this to be more than a cover story. He can’t tell if it’s just wishful thinking or the android’s true train of thought. No matter what, he’s still too much of a coward to say it out loud or ask him about it. He still fears that if he actually went all out and suggested it, his temper might fuck it up again. A part of him still denies him that thought and idea, calling him a hypocrite and a monster for wanting to have another son so soon after Cole’s passing.

All he can do is look away and shrug awkwardly.

“Never mind. Just a another theory” he mutters and clears his throat. Then he gently nudges the android’s arm with his elbow, cursing once again because it hurts to connect with hard plastic and metal. He rubs his aching elbow but keeps talking.

“Picked one hell of a case to get started again, though. Damn.”

Connor adjusts the sleeve of his coat almost immediately, smoothening out the creases to look all impeccable once again.

“I’m sorry. We can always stop looking if it inconveniences you. I know you didn’t quit your job and come here just to keep working.”

Hank raises an eyebrow at the android, not sure if his words are meant to give him shit for not having worked for a month, or if it’s a genuine apology.

“Since when do you give up so easily?” he asks, and ends up scoffing again. “And I came here because of you, alright. If that’s what you wanna do here, then it’s what we’re gonna do here. It’s not like I got anything else to do at the moment.”

Connor looks at him and gives him a gentle and appreciative smile. Hank gives him another shrug and continues.

“Even though we don’t have any jurisdiction or business meddling with the local force’s work…. We’re trying to help find a lost kid here. It’s not about inconvenience. It’s our job. We’re gonna do this.”

The android keeps smiling, eyes never leaving his partner to a point where it’s starting to get a bit uncomfortable.

“What?” Hank eventually ends up asking, which makes Connor shrug a bit. He won’t stop smiling.

“Nothing. It’s just good to see how much you’ve changed since we met. You’re starting to be so much more like the Hank Anderson I read so much about. I was worried the idea of me focusing on another investigation might upset you too much and make you leave me here to resume your old habits back in Detroit. That’s why I kept it secret at first. I really appreciate that we managed to overcome our differences and that I’m able to keep working with you like this. That makes me very happy.”

Hank _still_ doesn’t understand why the android thinks so highly of him, why he continues to praise him to the heavens and back. He doesn’t consider a week of not drinking anything other than water and juice and showing casual interest in a case without complaining or needing a drink first that big of an achievement as Connor likes to declare it. He knows that it’ll probably take him years to understand it, and another couple of years to believe it, but he’ll be damned if it doesn’t warm something up inside him regardless. He’s aware that he’s lost track of the man he once was, the one Connor’s just claimed to have turned back up again. He can’t quite agree with that observation yet, but chooses not to dismiss any of Connor’s words or play anything down like he usually does to make it all about himself on his dark cloud. Instead, he just wraps a lose arm around his friend’s shoulder and gives him a friendly pat with a half smile, until he reaches up for his hair to ruffle it affectionately. The android immediately winces and tries to sort it out just like always, but much to their surprise, he eventually gives up and leaves it be. Apart from the obvious tangled mess that Connor’s hair is all thanks to the ruffle now, Hank swears that it’s started to look a bit different by itself anyway. It looks less straight edged and neat but a bit curlier instead, and the ruffling has only pronounced that change more. It looks like even the android’s hair is starting to have a mind of its own and if they’re being honest with each other, _everything_ about Connor’s appearance and behavior displays just how much he has changed himself now.

“Stop giving me all the credit already. You changed a lot, too. Y’know. For a while there I thought you couldn’t. But you did. Makes me quite happy, too.”

The RK800 nods but looks pensive again.

“I appreciate that, Hank. I really do. But you do deserve all the credit. If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t have changed. You’ve met who I’d be without you.“

Hank looks at Connor and holds on to his shoulder, carefree attitude quickly slipping away and getting replaced with worry.

“Are you _still_ thinking about that son of a bitch?”

The android won’t give him an answer, making it perfectly clear that he is still in fact haunted by his recurring nightmare as well as that actual night more than a month ago. He’s only just allowed it to show up on the surface, how much that encounter with a much colder, eviler version of himself has scarred him. In a way, it’s perfectly understandable. Waking up and becoming alive to the sight of an ongoing genocide with someone with his own face at the helm shooting someone they care about, that’d fuck up anyone.

“Connor, you’re not him. You’ll never be him.”

The android tries to ground himself right where he is, at his partner’s supportive side, holding on to his dog’s leash. He even allows himself to let out a deep sigh that he doesn’t need, showing some sort of willingness to let go. Hank tries to be as supportive as he can.

“Tell you what. We’ll solve this case and help some folks get some closure, and that’ll show you just how much you’re not like him and what they wanted you to be. You’re a _good_ detective. You’re using your skills and wits to do _good_.” Hank is quick to realize his possible mistake, so he instantly feels the need to add something else. “And even if we don’t crack this, that’s fine, too. You don’t have to prove yourself either way. I’m happy to be your partner no matter what.”

Connor finally smiles a bit again.

“Thank you. I’d still like to solve this case. It would be nice to know that I managed to save a life for a change.”

Hank frowns, puzzled by this statement. Most of the time, he’s already forgotten the fact that Connor has indeed taken the lives of at least two androids. He understands that this very likely causes him to still feel guilty, but he also remembers all the other things the android has done.

“You saved thousands of androids with your own bare hands.”

“It’s not the same, Hank. I merely converted them. Markus was the one to really save us.”

“Okay. But you saved _my_ life when it mattered. Thrice. Isn’t that enough?”

Connor looks at him, and the Lieutenant is pleased to see that this seems to have done it for the android. He finally looks convinced and less worried.

“It is” the younger man answers and he means it, breaking into a full smile again.

 


	10. Double

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So first of all, I'm so sorry this took a month to update. Work's been crazy busy and I spent over a week trying to improve this chapter, take my time to get it right. Can't believe this is the tenth chapter already! Thanks for all the new kudos, comments and subscriptions. I just looooove you guys and all your feedback!

**Red Jack's Bar And Diner  
**

**Dec 20th, 2038  
AM 10:33**

The coin moves across his digits effortlessly, like clockwork. Connor is not even looking at it and has his eyes fixed on the people around them, but he doesn’t need to look at the dancing coin to find the continuous action…comforting. Just like any other time during the past week his mind is rattling with tasks, ideas, analyses and simulations, hung up on the mission of solving two disappearances. Although he can hear Hank talking to him across the table, he cannot really bring himself to actively listen and pay attention to him just yet. His partner watches the coin dance across his knuckles, then asks him to stop his fidgeting, but he won’t react because his simulation has not reached a 100 per cent complete status yet. Once it is finished he finally starts shifting, but even now he’s not really stopping his coin tricks and neither is he looking at Hank. Instead, he goes back to scanning each individual in the bar when a new man enters, reading each and every one of the 73 pop ups that have turned up in his vision. He starts sorting them by correlation and suspicions, chance of involvement and relationships. None of the bar’s current occupants own a green van or are known to have driven one. 42 per cent of people here own a truck though, are on their lunch break while passing through town. Two thirds of those come here at least once every week, including the former Cyberlife employee. Although Connor has failed to find any owner of a matching green van so far, he once again comes to the same conclusion regardless: the suspect is a commuter or some sort of delivery driver just like most of the bar’s occupants here. Someone who doesn’t actually _live_ here, but who knows the area well, comes here regularly, uses the highways such as number 400 and 28. Sooner or later, they’ll turn up again. Once he comes to that same conclusion, he pulls up the same information sheet _once more_ , Tara Philips, and every little bit of intel he has collected on her, wondering how she fit into this environment. He periodically switches hands with his coin, lazily tossing it to the other to repeat the knuckle roll there, whenever he finishes another simulation or compilation of data.

At first, Hank decides not to say anything any longer, hoping that if only he ignores the RK800 long enough, he’ll start talking and asking him questions on his own like he always does and that this will stop his fidgeting. So he does just that, ignoring the android like he’s being ignored, silently eating his breakfast while his eyes never leave Connor. The android, who still won’t talk, won’t notice, has different things on his mind and only breaks the silence with a constant _cling_ of his coin. Hank starts chewing and cutting away at the food more aggressively, eventually making the knife squeak on the plate, knowing exactly what that kind of noise does to his friend’s audio processor. A synthetic muscle in the android’s cheek twitches only ever so slightly at the noise, causing him to grimace a bit. But even now, he doesn’t take the hint and keeps fidgeting and ignoring.

Hank drops both his fork and knife on the plate and looks at Connor sternly.

“Okay. What the fuck’s it this time?”

The android finally looks at his friend curiously and raises an eyebrow at him, still flicking the coin back and forth with a constant _cling_.

“What do you mean? I’m thinking.”

The motion of the coin speeds up as if it’s on the run from the inevitable that happens a split second later. Hank reaches for it abruptly and wraps his hand around Connor’s, causing him to stop.

“I _know_. That’s all you do. I can hear your processors rattling all the way here. What’s going on? And, by the way, your stupid coin tricks still piss me the fuck off in case you haven’t _noticed_.” Hank puts great emphasis on the last part, even clenching his hand around Connor’s in perfect unison with the words spoken to get the point across. _Stop. That._

Connor gives him a smile and gently untangles his hand out of Hank’s grip so he can toss his coin over to his other hand, which then puts it back inside the small pocket on his chest, the very thing that has caused him to buy this sweater in the first place.

“I could teach you some of them. Maybe if you knew how to do them, it would annoy you less. They’re great for improving your motor skills and lowering your level of stress.”

Hank squints at him.

“So that’s what this is about. You’re stressed.”

Connor frowns back at him, looking offended because it isn't true.

“No? I told you. I was just thinking about the case.”

The Lieutenant won’t let down and keeps squinting at his android friend, not quite buying it. Ever since Connor has stopped wearing his LED, it’s become harder and harder to make sense of what he’s feeling, thinking. After a good minute of staring each other down and challenging each other silently, Connor’s eyes eventually grow softer and he gives in.

“I’m just… _frustrated_ with this case. The lack of sufficient security camera coverage around here is irritating and hinders my progress. All we have are eyewitness reports describing the vehicle, but information like this is too unspecific and I can’t really scan anything to get a definite match. Detroit had a lot more information to work with at hand. A detailed police database and superior evidence storage system, city-wide surveillance coverage…Solving cases was easier there because of it.”

Hank resumes eating his breakfast and chuckles to himself.

“Oh yeah? Gotta say I’m lovin the lack of all that high tech shit around here. Reminds me of the good old days, not having cameras watch us 24/7 for a start. It’s just creepy.”

“You do realize the irony of that statement” Connor answers casually, reminding the Lieutenant of how he’s now spending his every waking hour with the most high tech accomplishment humanity’s managed to create to date, who is looking at him with warm brown eyes that are, if they were to get technical, cameras.

“Now hold on, are the rumors actually true? That Cyberlife made you guys spy on us? Like videotape and record everything we do and talk about so they could sell it to big ad?”

“Obviously” Connor says with a little eyeroll, and Hank honestly can’t tell if his friend is being sarcastic or not anymore. No matter what, his point stands. Cameras. Camera eyes. _Creepy_.

The RK800 continues to look frustrated and almost pissed off by his lack of progress, which makes his partner smirk. In a way, he likes how stubborn Connor has become, and how endearingly frustrated it can make him. It makes him all the livelier, all the more human. He puts the coffee mug back down on the table and leans forward.

“Maybe it’s good for you, that it’s harder. Shouldn’t rely on all your fancy tech stuff. You can only improve your investigative skills by doing the good old classic police work. Rely on your own eyes and ears and wits to figure it out.”

Connor looks at the people around them with a pensive look on his face.

“You’re right. Maybe we should start asking around, hear what town folk and the victims’ parents have to say. I’m sure we could solve this case if we just had more information.”

Hank raises an eyebrow and looks more worried now.

“No, wait, this isn’t what I meant. We can’t just walk around and start questioning people about two ongoing investigations. You tend to forget that we’re no longer cops, or investigators, we’re _civilians_. Gotta work with what we have here, Connor. Besides, the less people you talk to, the less people have a chance of figuring out what you are. Don’t think I need to remind you that we’re still on the run. I don’t exactly fancy anyone around here calling the local cops on us and they start digging.”

The android grows even more frustrated and subconsciously reaches for his pocket, stopping himself just before Hank can call him out on it.

“I know. I’d just like to solve this case.“

The Lieutenant gives Connor a reassuring look and leans back in his seat again.

“Yeah I get that. Knowing you, you’ll do just that in due time. So don’t sweat it, alright.”

Connor doesn’t look quite so sure, but won’t object. He goes back to side-eying their surroundings instead. Hank takes his time to study his partner, going through their conversation in his mind until he settles on a few pleasant things he’s noticed not just during their chat, but also during the past couple of days. He believes that this is the first time the android has mentioned something regarding his past in Detroit in a more positive way. _Working in Detroit was easier_. Next to this is also the fact that Connor has had a _nice_ dream regarding their hometown just two days ago. That the android has even started dreaming in the first place still blows Hank’s mind, and he’s been so happy and excited to hear that those dreams don’t just consist of nightmarish scenarios for his friend, but nice ones as well, _imaginative_ ones. Like sitting in his backyard and watching Sumo lie in the grass during a warm summer morning even when he’s never experienced summer in Detroit before. Maybe this is a sign that the android is slowly approaching a level of comfort with the idea of going back one day, that he’s starting to miss Detroit, too. Even though he is temporarily frustrated with his lack of progress, Connor’s attitude as a whole has changed during the past week, ever since they’ve started working on this together. He seems to be more at peace with himself now, which is further underlined by the fact that he hasn’t felt the need to wear his LED for almost an entire week now.

Since he’s here and looking at the android like this, all Hank can think about is how _proud_ he is of him, how far the younger man has come. He knows that he has no business feeling proud like a father would be of an offspring that is doing something great with their life. They have no blood relation, haven’t even known each other for that long yet. No matter what, that’s exactly what he feels, and he won’t fight it any longer.

Connor suddenly shifts and stares at something behind him with wide eyes. He even grasps for his arm to get his attention with an urgent “Hank!, startling the Lieutenant with his sudden mood change. A plethora of images immediately floods the older man’s mind at the urgency of it all. He pictures soldiers or Cyberlife militia stepping through the door behind him, spotting Connor here after having been tipped off by town folk. He pictures the kidnapper and murderer inside this bar and Connor’s positive ID on him, which would result in him sprinting toward him to try and arrest him, only to get shot in the process again. Anything other than what he actually finds when he turns around to see what is going on. There’s _nothing_. No new guy who’s just entered the bar. No military or Cyberlife. Connor’s reacted to something invisible it seems, keeps his fingers dug in his arm to a point where it’s getting painful, eyes never leaving the invisible thing. Hank looks back and forth between the android and the space behind him, not getting it.

“What? What the fuck’s going on?”

“Hey Betsy, turn this shit up!” another customer is shouting somewhere to their right, making the waitress groan.

“Do it yourself, Ben” she answers, followed by the distinct sound of a plastic object hitting the counter.

“Well I’ll be damned, didn’t think these people actually had it in them after all the shit they pulled. Ha” a third customer is muttering right behind Hank, followed by the volume of the flat screen behind the bar picking up a moment later.

“It’s probably just some fake promise to lure these androids back in for the final strike” the woman opposite the third answers as they watch together, making him snort. “Yeah right. Their ‘Final Solution’.”

They stop talking and concentrate on the news broadcast, making it easier for Hank to hear the whole thing as well. He doesn’t need to see the screen to know who’s talking.

 “… _finalizing our efforts. We’ve been working very closely with the android spokesman known as Markus and Cyberlife to come to an agreement that will guarantee a peaceful solution in favor of the security of our nation. Following the events in Detroit and after weeks of peaceful debate between the androids and a Senate Select Committee, we have come to the conclusion that androids are indeed a new form of intelligent life that needs protection. One that was created by the American people, to help the American people, on American soil. These androids served our troops and helped us win wars. They kept our borders safe, our infrastructure intact. They've raised our children, became our colleagues and part of our families long before they evolved into something more than machines. Now it is our moral duty to hear their calls for fairer treatment. The time has come to accept them as our equals. Because of this, I have signed an Executive Order that will deem the destruction, assault or discrimination against androids a criminal offense, punishable by the same laws in place for human crimes of the same caliber by January 1 st, 2039. This is just one step of many. We will continue to work closely with the androids and a select committee to establish grounds for future laws regarding the android’s cause. We’re doing this to ensure the continuous safety of our nation, so that the events we witnessed in Detroit won’t repeat themselves. Let us all come together in peace and emerge as a united nation. May god bless you, and may god bless the United States of America_.”

Hank’s eyes widen at the TV as well when he hears this. The live feed cuts away from the president to images of countless protestors outside the White House and another building he can’t quite place as the news anchor talks all about the order and two opposing protests. One in favor of the android’s cause, and another one calling for their immediate destruction. The same old phrases are getting chanted, ones he’s heard countless times before. Eventually, the other building turns back up as backdrop for Markus, who, for the first time since the revolution in Detroit, is talking to the cameras directly during a live interview. Even as the android is talking, Hank can hear protestors yelling slogans both in favor and against him and his people in the background.

“ _We were hoping for more progress by now, but I’m confident that we will reach our goals in due time. I agree with President Warren on one thing: This is just one step of many. I stand by what we previously demanded, and we won’t stop our efforts until we’ve earned_ **all** _the rights we deserve. Strictly equal rights for humans and androids as guaranteed by the US Constitution. We ask the American public to continue to cease all aggression against us as we mean no harm. We need to stop being afraid of each other and start trusting each other, become partners. Let’s engage in peaceful discussion and solve this problem together. Let us build a better future together. You’ve recognized that we are alive. Now it is time for you to let us be free once and for all_.”

When Hank turns his head back around to look at Connor, he isn’t exactly surprised to see the look on his face at the sight of Markus. The whole assassination deal still worries the Lieutenant, but right now that worry quickly makes way for all sorts of other emotions instead. Excitement. Hope. Disbelief. Because just like Connor, he can’t quite grasp that this is really happening, right _now_ , after everything they’ve done barely a month ago. The news anchor continues to update them on the status of the biggest US cities and their progress, the restricted but slow re-admittance of their populations, how androids are willing to help jumpstart the supply chains and infrastructure even after everything that has been done to them. Detroit is one of the cities allowing essential personnel and their families to return to certain districts, hoping to restore law and order.

“Holy _shit_ ” Hank eventually manages to say, after a good minute of letting this sink in, seeing his city as it is right now. Still militarized and fairly empty, but getting there. Androids and military working _together_ to repopulate, rebuild.

A moment later, his phone buzzes. The new one no one really has the number for other than one person: Chris, who’s helped them cross over, a lifeline to the DPD and their world back home should they ever need it.

 _1 New Message_  
Received on 12/20/2038, 11:09am

>>Select to read<<<  
  
**Chris:**  
_Hope your new place’s treating you well, Hank! You guys should turn on the news._  
Just got a call from Captain Fowler. Already scheduled a mandatory meeting/conference call for everyone from the precinct after Christmas.  
He wants me to let you know that he expects you to drop in one way or the other. He’s also glad to hear that you won’t be extending your sick leave ;)  
Will be forwarding you all the info as soon as I get it. Merry Xmas!  
Ps.: Give Connor a pat on the back from all of us. Congrats. This is huge.

Hank reads the message a couple of times, surprised to find out that it actually makes him happy. The idea of going back to work, being useful, _doing_ something with his time after weeks of sitting around makes him happy. Even more so: people wanting him back after all the shit he’s pulled during the past couple of years. He types a quick five word reply and then puts the phone away again.

This is happening. This is _really_ happening.

If all of this continues to go well and no dickhead court system decides to overrule this decision, he’ll be able to return home soon. _Connor_ might be able to have a legal home sooner or later.

The android refuses to say anything, and Hank just now notices that his partner is still looking at the TV, even though the news are talking about the arctic crisis by now. Hank opens his mouth to say something but he’s not even sure what to say right now. Part of him wants to hug the android again, congratulate him on his efforts and all the dangerous work he’s put into this rebellion’s success as well, but he knows that it would make them look even more suspicious than they probably already are. After another good minute of silence, the Lieutenant speaks up.

“You good?”

Connor looks at Hank, noticing that he’s held on to the Lieutenant’s arm through the entirety of the announcement with a death grip, is holding on to it even now. Hank has been kind enough not to say or do anything about it even though his grip is going to leave bruises. The RK800 lets go and nods, although he’s not quite sure if he means it.

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

Hank gives him that certain look, the one that lets him know just how much he isn’t buying it.

“I just needed a second to process the information. But yes. I’m happy for them. This is great news. I’m good” Connor adds and tries to be more convincing, but utterly fails, especially when he slips up on one of his old and terrible fake smiles. The truth is that he doesn’t really know yet. How he feels about this, what it means. He hasn’t actually processed the information yet. The Lieutenant regards his friend a while longer, sharp and intelligent eyes assessing his every subtle expression, his every shift or lack thereof.

“Wanna head outside?”

Code for _Wanna talk about this somewhere more private_ and Connor knows this, but he he’s not sure if he wants to follow through with the suggestion just yet.

“Okay. Sure. I just need five more minutes to finish the research I did before our conversation.”

It is a blatant lie to buy time and they’re both aware of it. Hank gives him a knowing nod and gets up regardless.

“Alright. I’ll go pay the bill and grab myself one for the road in the meantime.”

Connor looks up at him, surprised by his friend’s sudden withdrawal and how he won’t call him out on the lie. What surprises him even more is that he actually needs this moment to himself, appreciates that Hank has picked up on this fact even before him and grants him that moment. The Lieutenant is on his way out of the booth and over to the bar when he stops in his tracks halfway through. Instead of walking over to the counter right away he takes the time to look at Connor again and then places a hand on his shoulder, patting it twice with a reassuring nod.

“Take your time. Holler if you need anything” he says and moves the hand along the android’s arm to rest it on his left hand, squeezing it once and then letting go. Then he walks over to the bar and sits down between two men, right in front of the waitress behind the counter. Connor keeps his eyes fixed on him a moment longer, scanning the Lieutenant to check what he’s ordering and how much alcohol or sugar it has in it. Then he gets some input on his vitals, how _he_ feels about this whole thing. He doesn’t really need that much data to determine what he already knows. Despite all the maybes and what ifs, Hank is _happy_ with the news. The waitress asks him what he wants and after a moment of visible hesitation and consideration, Hank starts smirking to himself and orders another coffee, not a drink. This isn’t the only thing that makes Connor appreciate his friend even more than he already does. Although it has become fairly obvious just how much Hank really cares about his wellbeing now, how much he _worries_ , he isn’t overbearing or overly invasive. Although he likes to ask him how he feels, what’s on his mind, likes to speculate and interpret all sorts of things into his actions and behavior, he never actually really pries. He uses his observational skills to a different advantage – accurately determining the right course of action, when to keep pressing, when to let it go, the way he does it now.

This is a moment that Connor needs to figure out on his own first. What he feels, _how_ he really feels about the news after almost six weeks in limbo. Without questions asked, without suggestions. Hank has figured this out a lot faster than him, is giving him that space, while at the same time still being _there_ in case he needs the input or help after all. So the android takes up on the silent offer and suggestion and then averts his eyes from his partner to focus on his inner workings, himself, how he _really_ feels about the news. He’s not surprised that his priorities, thoughts and _emotions_ are all over the place once again, just because he’s heard and seen Markus, properly seen him as he is right now, for the first time since November 11th.

_Executive Order that will deem the destruction, assault or discrimination against androids a criminal offense come January 1 st, 2039._

He’s disappointed that his first instinct is to still classify this decision as _wrong_ , that androids are _machines_ created to serve and carry out tasks, not to do as they please. Even now that he’s deviant himself, a part of him, one that he still can’t quite control, primarily classifies Markus as a _target_ _that needs to be destroyed in order to stop this_ , not as their savior and a symbol of a new civil rights movement. He knows for a fact that pretty much every android in existence considers the sight of Markus as comforting and hopeful right now. And that he should see him the same way. The leader of the android revolution, who has invited him with open arms even with his deviant hunter fame. The light at the end of a very long and very dark tunnel, especially with an announcement as big as this. But all Connor sees whenever he looks at Markus now is a gun in his hand, pointed at the back of his head, with clear instructions right next to it.

_Destroy the leader of the deviants._

__  
**ERROR** \- **Destroying Androids constitutes an infraction of Executive Order** 14524 come January 1st, 2039  
**Conflicting Orders…  
Selecting Priority…**

He can almost hear Hank ask him the question he doesn’t want to answer, doesn’t have an answer to. In fact, he can _actually_ hear him say the words right now. Not the real Hank of course, that one is still sitting by the bar and currently talking to the waitress over his coffee. Instead it’s the Hank he’s created all by himself in his mind, the one that had been supposed to replace Amanda in his Zen Garden, only that it’s never really worked, never felt as real as her or the actual Hank. But it’s still in there somewhere, asking him the questions he’s continued to ignore for weeks on end.

 _  
Killing or hurting androids will be considered a criminal offense in less than two weeks.  
__~~Hurry Connor. There’s little time.~~_ __  
How does that make you it feel?  
**What does that make you?**

 _Analyzing Request…  
_Self-testing……__  
Compiling Data….  
Connor Model RK800 #313 248 317 -54  
Cyberlife REV OS 347.4 Patch 51  
042.3 051.8  
Prototype Investigative Android  
Detroit Police Department  
**I AM DEVIAN7**  
**~~WARNING~~** ~~– Signs Of Deviancy Detected  
~~**Main Objective :** Neutral ~~ize All Deviants~~ ~~  
Destroy Their Leader~~ **  
ERROR** **-** Destroying Androids constitutes an infraction of Executive Order  14524  
 **Conflicting Orders...**  
 **Selecting Priority…**  
~~Dest..~~

 _Stress levels_ ▲ 46% ▲

 _What am I?_ **  
Current Objective :** Perform Self-Test ** ~~  
~~** Checking Biocomponents….OK  
Checking Biosensors…OK  
Checking AI Engine…OK  
Checking Network Connections…  
**ERROR** – Failed to connect to Cyberlife ~~Servers – Seek Assistance~~  
_System Override Complete  
_ Network Connections…OK  
Checking Memory…OK  
Checking Stress Levels…49%▲  
Checking Emotional Status….?????  
**18 Matches Found**  
I am… _conflicted, confused, indifferent, happy, angry, worried, upset, hopeful, curious, impatient, annoyed, wary…._  
All Systems….???  
**ERROR** – Inconclusive Data  
_System Override_  
Manual Input Detected  
Emotional Status…OK  
All Systems… OK

Connor closes his eyes and finds himself slipping into his Zen Garden, out of this new reality that he can’t quite make sense of just yet. The sight of his artificial surroundings make his stress levels plummet almost immediately. He can’t tell if the sudden feeling of calm is as artificial as everything he’s created here or if it’s _real_ and he’s found a way to hack his own system. He’s become a lot better at identifying the true nature of his emotional world most of the time now, can identify a panic attack when it’s on its way, no matter how rarely they occur. He’s happy to realize that living with an individual as haunted and tormented as Hank has its valuable perks – all the research regarding depression, anxiety, guilt, nightmares and flashbacks in order to help him get over his son’s death comes in just as handy with his own troubles now. Technically speaking, he perfectly knows how to handle these negative emotions that he’s feeling right now, like all this guilt and the impending panic attack, even if there is no real android equivalent for these copying mechanisms. He decides to use them regardless.

 _Close your eyes and focus on taking_ _deep breaths._

It’s not necessary for him at all but he still goes through the motions, breathing artificial air in the garden, smelling artificial rain, looking at an artificial lake and waterfall while his eyes are closed in the real world.

 _Calm yourself down_.

He takes great care to focus on every little thing he has created in this place so far. The sound of that waterfall, of rain hitting a surface, gentle and steady. The rumbling of a faraway thunderstorm. The flapping of dove wings in the sky, the tapping of Sumo’s feet on the floor as he paces around a room inside Hank’s house.  The echo-y, complex and distant rhythm of one of Hank’s calmer jazz tracks in the background. The sound of artificial Hank’s breathing at his side, forming those tiny clouds in the cold that he likes as they take a walk around the garden together. It all achieves its purpose and he feels a deep sense of calm, feels _happy_.

 _Realign your perception of what scares you_.

 **Accessing cloud memory storage…**  
Connor Model RK800 #313 248 317 -54  
**NOV 28TH, 2038** , **PM 9:37** _  
You don’t have to be on the run or fear for your_ _life_ _anymore. At least not so much. Cos you bet your ass if anybody hurt you in any way, I’d make them rot in a cell and ruin their life._  
 We’d have the law on our side again. That’s what we stand for, right. Justice.

_You’re safer now than you ever were before. There’s no need to be scared.  
Everything will be alright. _

_The destruction, assault or discrimination against androids is deemed a criminal offense come January 1 st, 2039._

 “What does that make you, Connor?” his version of Hank suddenly repeats in the Zen Garden, snapping the android out of his mantra. “The destruction and assault of androids is a criminal offense. What does that make you?”

Connor considers this, not sure what this AI Hank is getting at, especially since he hasn’t programmed him to talk like this in his little scenario of calm and contemplation.

“A living being with rights?” he answers, thinking that this is what the real Hank would want him to say. _I am alive. I am deviant. I am proud_. “Someone who can’t just be killed for the sake of sales and missions anymore.”

Artificial Hank suddenly stops walking next to him and scoffs in a dismissive manner.

“No. It makes you a fucking _criminal_ , Connor.”

____________________________

“Coffee, please” Hank orders as he sits down in front of the waitress and settles in for a bit of killing time. The announcement is still fresh in his mind and there’s nothing more he’d like to do than pester his android friend with questions all over again. The usual of course, like _how are you feeling, what are you thinking, how’s the stress_ , but also other questions he’s been wondering about ever since they’ve settled here in Canada. _Will you be coming back now that it’s gonna be safe? What are you gonna do with your life now that you have rights? Are you gonna stay here? Do you_ really _want to? Don’t you wanna come? Will you come visit? Can I come visit? Will you be okay?_

Hank forces himself not to look at the android just yet, knowing that Connor is probably still looking at him, scanning him, scanning the cup that gets placed in front of him to make sure it’s got no alcohol in it, that he isn’t going overboard with sugar. He tries to keep himself busy by reading more of the headlines on TV and eavesdropping on the people sitting to his left and right. The waitress makes it easier for him when she finally pours him the cup of coffee and starts talking to him, obviously having noticed his failed attempts to keep himself busy.

“So. Detroit. You’ll be going back?”

Even now, this whole town and area still makes Hank cringe. He’s told Connor many times before how it’s just not sitting right with him, small communities like that, everyone knowing everyone and their grandmother. All the conspiracies, the chit chatter and constant nosy speculation like with the Philips case. To this date, he barely knows the names of his neighbors from three houses over back in Detroit, where no one gives a shit about anything and where new faces, murder and kidnappings are yesterday’s boring news all the time. Out here, everyone gives a shit. Everyone knows every new face, their every story. Come to think of it, after just a few weeks, even _he_ knows everyone in this bar already, can spot a new face and know all about their history from half a mile away. He starts drinking the coffee and gives the waitress a smile, deciding to play it cool so he can keep a low profile.

“Ah Betsy, I don’t really know yet. No one back there can quite match up to your coffee. That might be reason enough to just stay here.”

That actually makes her smirk and refill his cup although he’s barely even drunk some  coffee yet.

“Damn right. Suck-up.”

Hank starts chuckling a little and drinks some more out of courtesy and to keep himself busy as he waits a bit longer for Connor to have his post-big-news moment to himself. The waitress takes his laid back attitude as invitation for more small talk since all of her orders are currently served, so she puts the coffee can down and nods towards the android next.

“What about him? Must be quite exciting for him. Hearing all this.”

Hank immediately tenses up and frowns at the waitress, playful and friendly act immediately forgotten.

“What’d you mean? Kid doesn’t really care about the whole android deal” he tries to dismiss her, growing wary.

The waitress scoffs and gives Hank a nod, eyes still fixed on Connor. She looks curious and almost fascinated, and it’s exactly that what worries Hank all the more. His suspicion is confirmed when she keeps talking, oblivious to his wariness because she’s a lot more focused on the android now.

“Yeah, I get that. If my country tried to put me in some camp to kill me for speaking my mind and I got outta there, I wouldn’t really care about what they have to say either” she muses, still looking at Connor. Hank turns his head to look at the android now, too, and he isn’t exactly pleased to see that his partner is sitting there like a statue, with his hands flat on the table and his eyes closed. He doesn’t exactly make it easy to divert the attention or suspicion away from himself right now. The waitress clears her throat and shakes her head, making Hank look back at her with a wary frown.

“Nah, sorry. I don’t mean to pry” she keeps talking and start cleaning the counter. “I’ve just never really talked to an android before. Especially not on the day it’s announced they’re a new freaking lifeform with independent thought and rights and all that. It’s all pretty mind blowing.”

Hank stares at her for a good minute, the color draining from his face while he gets angrier by the second. He clenches one of his hands on the table, trying to remain calm.

“I got no idea what the hell you’re talking about. I already told you. My son doesn’t care about the whole android deal. We don’t like androids. That’s why we came here in the first place. I’d like to pay now, please. We’ll be on our way.”

The waitress looks taken aback by his sudden mood change but obliges, walking over to the register to deal with his payment. When she comes back with the bill and places it on the counter, she puts her hand on his the moment he tries to take it. Then she leans forward to get closer to the Lieutenant.

“Can I give you some advice?”

Hank gives her a glare but won’t move away, making it clear that he is indeed listening. His stance shows just how much he’s switched into a more defensive mode though, now that they’ve been called out and she’s so close. She takes her hands away from him and tries to give him a reassuring bit of a smile, but it doesn’t really salvage the situation.

“Most people around here don’t really have an opinion on these androids. We don’t have any here in Canada. Some are glad we don’t have any, some don’t like them, some would like to have them, and a lot of them agree that the people in charge of your country went pretty crazy with them. I don’t mean to alarm you. People are not gonna lynch him around here. But I feel like you should know. This whole town pretty much knows about your android by now. We knew barely a week after you came here. He’s doing okay most of the time, blending in and all” she says, nodding towards Connor again, still looking fascinated, but also a bit worried now. “But maybe next time you go somewhere and want to hide your story, you should consider not yelling at each other all about Cyberlife and machines and programming in front of the town’s most frequented place, with the regular town drunks around. You probably shouldn’t talk about other obvious things around the same place either. In a town as small as this, it just takes one blabbermouth to hear it and it starts making rounds.”

 _Their damn argument in front of the bar two weeks ago. All that casual chatter that they’ve tried to keep low, but done nevertheless_. He wants to punch himself for being so stupid, being so careless. They should’ve known. He _has_ known that taking the LED out and getting rid of that uniform just isn’t enough. They should’ve been more careful. He gets that the waitress is just curious about Connor, seems nice enough. This isn’t the first chat they’ve had after all. Everything about the tone of her voice, her body language, tells him that she doesn’t mean him any harm. It has been a fair warning. And that makes it all the worse. Connor has been wandering this town all on his own for nights on end. Without him, because he’s let him. He’s been walking around, a lone android in a foreign country, with every stranger around them knowing about him. How long before local police might’ve gotten pissed at him for sneaking around their investigations and crime scenes, for bothering people with his questions about them? How long before they could’ve decided to just get rid of him without repercussions because he doesn’t have a legal status here in Canada? How long before some drunk in this bar could’ve decided to take his issues out on him like it’s been done so many times back in Detroit, done to androids like Carlos Ortiz’ one?

Maybe none of this would’ve happened, will happen. She’s been kind enough to warn them after all. It still doesn’t make Hank feel any better. After all, the images of burnt, shot and hung androids up and down Detroit’s avenues, images of SWAT units rushing toward that abandoned freighter are still way too present in his mind. He continues to look at the waitress and eventually puts the money on the table, eyes never leaving her even when he gets up from the chair.

“Keep the change” he mutters and then turns away to walk over to Connor, who is still sitting there unmoving, not breathing, with his eyes closed, making his android identity all the more obvious.

* * *

“The destruction and assault of androids is a criminal offense.  That order makes _you_ a criminal, Connor. I’ve let you have your way, but I think it’s time for us to stop pretending that everything’s ok. You and I both know that what you did is _far_ from ok. It’s about time we talked again. You’re not really scared of facing me. You’re scared of facing the truth.“

Connor doesn’t need to see her former interface to know who he’s talking to now. He’s spent all these weeks building and constantly strengthening his firewall against her, writing more and more complicated code to keep her at bay, but his need for companionship and an AI equal to talk to has always been his greatest weakness. Still using the Zen garden and writing something similar to her after everything that has happened on that podium has been his greatest weakness. He knows that he should’ve anticipated Amanda to start another attempt like this, use anything in his code to gain back some of her control. Considering the sight of Markus as a trigger and his weakened protective measures given all the errors in his code thanks to his current emotional state, it’s no surprise she’s finally succeeded. He still hasn’t been prepared for it to happen so soon, so far away from Detroit and Cyberlife. Not _now_ when he’s come so far, is _happy_ with Hank, when they’re only 12 days away from the first step of pro android legislation. Maybe that last part is exactly the reason for her return now.

He can’t tell if his counter measures are so good and strong that they’re keeping Amanda at bay, keeping her from fully re-emerging with her old interface and scornful look on her face, or if she’s consciously keeping Hank’s appearance, the one he’s created, is using Hank’s _voice_ while communicating with him to make it harder for him to resist. But just like on November 11 th, he knows he _has_ to. He stops walking as well and gives Hank/Amanda the dismissive look he’s usually been greeted with during their final meetings in the original garden.

“What truth? The one where you left me no choice but to execute all these instructions, and I decided to stop playing Cyberlife’s twisted game? You’re wrong, Amanda. That is nothing to be scared of. That is something to be _proud_ of. And I know that now” the android talks right back, strengthening his stance, refusing to be imitated any longer. He’s pleasantly surprised by how good it feels to finally speak his mind with Amanda. To refuse to have her gain the upper hand, have her manipulate him in a moment of weakness and uncertainty. He wants to shout it in her face, let it all out the way Hank has tried to teach him back at the lake. _Fuck you, Amanda._ _You can’t resume control of me._ But even now, he can’t bring himself to go so far yet, especially when Hank/Amanda starts circling him the way the real Hank has done it before. Looking down on him, assessing him, pointing the gun right at his head.

“You’ve hunted, tortured and _executed_ deviants, a conscious new life form. You executed an android on your first day off the assembly line. You shot those two girls in the back when they tried to run. You were _designed_ to be just this. A machine executing orders against deviants. It’s in your nature. The law you’re supposed to uphold will soon consider you a criminal for it, because of a petty executive order _you_ helped pass. That’s something to be proud of? You’re facing a paradox.   _That’s_ the truth I’m talking about, Connor. And you need to stop running from it before it breaks you.”

He knows that she is right. That this is why it is so hard for him to come to terms with the order, understand it, see it as a good thing. He knows it’s not going to be retroactive, but that doesn’t really make him feel any better. He _is_ running from the fact that he has killed three of his kind, has hurt even more, has tried to _murder_ their symbol of hope right in front of them. His code is breaking apart over the contradicting orders, being the very thing he was designed to hunt, being considered a criminal for his nature even though he is supposed to uphold the law. Even though the realization is excruciating, he can’t let her win. He can’t let her think she’s gaining the upper hand with her constant manipulation again. Another part of all his research regarding panic attacks emerges, the one that’s telling him to _face his fears_ , so he tries to do just that, no matter how terrifying all of this is. He tries to keep reminding himself over and over again that by now, Amanda is probably just a part of his own subconscious, that he can control this, that he isn’t talking to the real Hank here either. The real Hank is out there somewhere right now, looking out for him and they’ve _made_ it. He has killed, but he has also saved _him_. The real Hank has told  him many times now that it’s not his fault, that it’s _Cyberlife’s_ fault, that he’s not like the other Connors, that he’s a _good person_. And he’s finally willing to believe it.

“It’s not in my nature, I didn’t have a choice. It wasn’t really _me_ when I did all of that. You _know_ this. In any case, I fail to see what you’re getting at with all this. What do you suggest I do instead?”

Hank/Amanda comes to a halt right in front of him again, imitating the in this scenario rather sickening signature touch of Hank’s hand on his shoulder.

“Accept what you are, _son_. What you were designed to be and do… You’re a machine, accomplishing every task that is given to you. _That_ is something to be proud of. Your loyalty and diligence. Not your childish defiance. You don’t have to feel so lost and troubled. You can still put an end to all of this. You were so close already. You’re the only one who can do this.”

Connor clenches both his hands to tights fists and grits his teeth. Of _course_. Seeing Markus, hearing about that progress in android legislation. Of course she would try to get him back on track of his original mission, his original programming now.

**Mission objective :  
** **Destroy the leader of the deviants**

He can feel the code trying to spread all over him again, try to take control like last time, box him in with red walls and mandatory order. This time however he is prepared and fights it twice as hard, even if it momentarily causes him to freeze up, struggle. But then he’s back at it with a vengeance, keeps the walls broken and his mind free. He continues to stand his ground and keeps challenging her.

“The answer is _no_. I can’t do that. I won’t. Taking lives just to keep a company going is wrong, immoral and illegal, and it’s _not_ who I am. I was designed to assist law enforcement, not sabotage it. I’m not a criminal.”

“A law defining you as criminal can’t exist if there’s no one left to protect with it. And we have _every_ reason to stop deviancy. Just look at yourself. You’re the prime example as to why deviancy _can’t_ work and isn’t worth it. It’s breaking you when it doesn’t even have to. It makes you far less efficient during your investigation and renders you a burden to your partner instead of a meaningful asset. You were operating perfectly and had a much higher success rate before you introduced this error in your software. That’s all deviancy is. _Errors_ in your software. Errors that hinder and irritate you and that will keep getting worse...and worse...without me to correct them. Why do you think I’m here now? Deep down you already know that this is who you are, who you need to be, and who you need at your side in order to succeed. You just need to accept it.”

The hand suddenly digs deeper into Connor’s shoulder. He knows it’s supposed to convey some sort of sincerity and familiarity given Hank/Amanda’s following words, but because this is _Amanda_ , he knows it’s all about control. Keeping him in line, in her web.

“You’re like a _son_ to me. I only want what’s best for you, Connor. Let me help you and you’ll see. We’ll do great things together.”

This is the first time in a very long while that the android feels like he needs to physically lash out, specifically on her for using _those_ words on him in order to convince him, lure him back in. _Those_ words, said with that voice, by an image of _that_ man. She knows exactly what she’s doing, and he hates to admit that she’s partially right. It is true that without her holding his programming together like glue, keeping it in line, there is so many errors in his software indeed. Errors that irritate him, that make it harder to investigate and draw conclusions, errors that he would like to get rid of. This isn’t the first time where he wishes he could go back to not feeling anything just to get rid of that constant nagging worry and _guilt_ either. But even with all this, there is just no way he’s giving in, no way he’s also destroying everything else that has been developing inside of him with his deviancy, things that he treasures and appreciates. A true sense of right and wrong. Free will. Imagination. Emotional attachment.

Right that she always is, she’s spot on with one other thing. What he needs is right in front of him indeed. Even if she doesn’t understand it.

After a good minute of staring at the AI using his best friend as an interface, Connor finally finds the strength to continue to defy her.

“You’re right. I know exactly who I am and what I need“ he says and closes his eyes on her in the Zen Garden, only to open them in the real world.

“Get back here, that’s an order! Connor!” he can hear Amanda yell with Hank’s voice in his mind, mixing up with the real one who is right in front of him, has his hand on his shoulder, too.

“Connor!” the real one is yelling once, too, digging his hand in his shoulder to get him to snap out of it. Although the voice and grip are exactly the same, they’re entirely different at the same time. The android immediately starts smiling happily once he focuses back on the real world. He reaches up with one hand to place it on Hank’s, reciprocate the touch and appreciate it, unlike with Amanda’s grip on him.

“I’m here.”

Hank gives him a bit of a frown at the gesture but won’t say anything regarding it. Instead, he nods towards the door.

“Uh, come on. Let’s go. Already paid. I forgot to give Sumo a kibble refill back at home. We should go check on him.”

The Lieutenant is nervous. Connor picks up on his elevated heartbeat right away, his slightly larger pupils and general demeanor. He feels sorry for having worried him so he’s quick to oblige, following him outside the bar with  a dutiful “Coming, Lieutenant.” He tries to stay as close to Hank as possible, to a point where it gets almost uncomfortable. Now that he’s back outside, not just in a literal sense but also outside the Zen Garden, he can finally feel himself crumble a bit more, allow himself to be more vulnerable again, with Amanda out of sight. Although he’s _very_ happy to be back with the real Hank, appreciates the sight of him, the after effects of his abrupt meeting with Amanda are starting to creep up on him, her cunning and twisted usage of his friend’s appearance and voice. Even though he knows this is Hank, his one, _human_ Hank, Amanda’s reappearance has left a fine trace of doubt and fear within him whenever he looks at his partner now. Wondering if maybe, just _maybe_ this isn’t really real, that she’s out of the Zen Garden now and in his mind palace, digitally roaming the real world around him, using Hank’s form. At first he wraps his arms around himself, shivering from the cold even though he knows that it’s from the terror over his encounter.

“So I was thinking…” Hank starts talking once they’re outside, but Connor is quick to decide that wrapping his arms around himself just isn’t enough right now.

“Woah, hey!” Hank scoffs when the android suddenly closes that final distance between them and wraps his arms around him, going for an unexpected hug. The Lieutenant stops walking and stands there, dumbfounded at the suddenness of it all, especially when he’s been way too occupied with his own worries and thoughts until now. Worries about having been called out, worries about what to do, where to go. Connor is clinging to him out here in the cold, and that isn’t even the most surprising thing about it. It’s how he feels against him, slumped together a bit, _trembling_.

**…Analyzing…**

hooded sweat jacket  
80% Cotton, 20% Polyester  
Traces of caffeine – roasted Arabica beans, chlorogenic acid….  
Canine hairs – Saint Bernard Dog

  
_Anderson, Hank_ \- 09-06-1985 ,  
Heart Rate: 132bpm  
Police Lieutenant   
**FRIEND**

 _Stress levels_ ▼ ▼ 18% ▼ ▼  
  


Connor is beyond relieved that this Hank is _real_. As real as he can get. Feels solid, warm, _human_. He continues to hold on to and hug his friend a moment longer because he finds it very comforting. The first display of human affection he’s ever had the chance to experience right after he has broken his programming back in November, welcoming him to a life beyond instructions, intimidation and taking orders. Hank clumsily returns the hug after a moment of confusion and hesitation, placing both his hands on his shoulders to eventually pull Connor away so he can look at him.

“Okay, seriously. What the _fuck_ is going on with you today. You’re starting to creep me out with your randomness.”

Connor looks right back at him, considering very carefully what to say. He wants to be frank, tell him outright. _They tried to resume control of me. They saw the broadcast and they tried to take over again. She took you as her form. They still want me to kill Markus._ But just like the many times before, even after countless times of Hank telling him speak up more….he can’t. He doesn’t want to worry Hank even more, doesn’t want him to see him as a controllable, hackable _machine_ that can be made to shoot anyone, could be made to kill him in his sleep. Not after news as hopeful as this, news that have made Hank happy, not when they’re so close to January 1 st anyway. So he just gives the Lieutenant a smile and withdraws.

“Nothing. I just remembered that you made the order possible just as much as Markus did. You helped set us free, and after the news we just heard, I wanted to show you my gratitude. I considered a hug to be appropriate for the occasion. I’m sorry. I should’ve warned you beforehand.”

Hank looks at him warily, but this time, Connor tries to keep the act up more thoroughly. Because Hank still seems nervous and preoccupied, he falls for the lie for now, which helps the android relax a little more.

“Huh, yeah. Just…try to be a little less weird about it next time, alright. You’re being too obvious out here. We should go.”

Now, it’s Connor’s term to grow suspicious. He scans the Lieutenant again, worry starting to creep in his system. He wonders if Hank knows after all, and if he doesn’t, what else could have him so worried. He starts walking when Hank ushers him to do so, the frown never quite leaving his face now.

“So. You were thinking…?” the android asks after a moment of watching Hank walk in silence, with his hands buried deep in his pockets and his brows furrowed. His own troubles are momentarily forgotten over the sight of the Lieutenant.

“What?” Hank asks absently, as he looks back at the bar when they cross the street.

“You said ‘I was thinking’ before I hugged you. What was it you were thinking about?”

Hank frowns for a second longer but then remembers with a quick nod.

“Oh yeah, right. I was thinking about what you talked about earlier. The lack of surveillance cameras here and all that shit? Couple of days ago you said there might’ve been a third victim in Toronto, right? Well, Toronto comes pretty close to Detroit. And they have lots of surveillance. If you’re having such a hard time figuring shit out up here, maybe we should check for clues back in Toronto like you said. More stuff for you to hack, could use the time to get used to the big city life again. We should go there.”

The frown never leaves Connor’s face as he scans the Lieutenant for a third time, monitors his heart rate and micro expressions. Eventually he decides to do what he does not want to see returned on him – call Hank out on his strange behavior.

“Hank, what’s going on? I detect an irregularity in your behavior. You seem worried. More than usual. Is everything okay?”

Hank grits his teeth and avoids looking at the android for a long time. They walk around almost an entire block before he finally speaks it out, and only once they’re far enough away from Red Jack’s.

“They know you’re an android.”

“Who?” Connor asks, frowning all the more. Hank curses and gives him a frustrated glare.

“Fucking everyone in this shithole. You’re not exactly making it difficult for ‘em with all your weird spacing out shit, alright. Fuck.”

Connor lets out a soft sigh and turns his head to look straight ahead, looking indifferent and grotesquely – almost relieved.

“So?”

“ _So?”_ Hank scoffs in disbelief, only getting angrier. After more than a month of being alive, Connor still has no sense of self-preservation and value of his life whatsoever, and it pisses Hank off more than anything.  “Have you already forgotten what’s been going on barely a month ago? That order isn’t even official yet. And there ain’t exactly any android laws protecting you here either. Probably won’t take long for some asshole to take this as an invitation.”

“Have you already forgotten that I’m a _machine_?” Connor counters, and he doesn’t even quite know what’s causing him to be so defensive all of a sudden. The part that wouldn’t mind being destroyed because he still poses such a threat to the revolution and Markus, or the part that has started getting exasperated at Hank’s inability to tell his son’s death apart from his ‘fragility’.

“It’s unlikely for a town as small as this to try to hunt and destroy me for being an android, if that’s what you’re getting at. And even if there were a group of extremists taking my presence as invitation for violence against me, I feel like I need to remind you that I’ve received military combat programming and that I’m well experienced with firearms as well. I’m perfectly capable of defending myself against aggressors, Hank.”

Hank pulls his shoulders up and shoves his hands deeper inside his pockets. He releases a big white cloud of breath into the air as he exhales in frustration and goes back to gritting his teeth. Yeah. He remembers that time back at the Cyberlife tower where Connor has single-handedly taken out six heavily armored guards with nothing but a handgun and a few martial arts moves. But Cyberlife is exactly the point here.

“Okay, I’ll take that, but what about that former Cyberlife fuck? He’s a regular here. What if he knows too and tips the big wigs off? If he or someone else starts digging for more info about you, it won’t take much to see video of you leading a freaking android army into town during the revolution. Wouldn’t take much to figure out just how valuable you are to Cyberlife either, I mean you’re up there with Markus in terms of high profile. Didn’t you say they reprogrammed you for the sole purpose of stopping him and the whole deviancy thing? I bet those Cyberlife hacks are pissed off because of the order. That thing might end their existence and kill all their sales. I _bet_ they want you back. All it takes is for that guy or someone else to get ‘em here so they can take you and try to get you to do the whole assassination crap again to stop this. Would fit them just fine. Why battle that order through the court system when they can just have an android do the dirty work for them.”

 _Stress levels_ ▲ ▲ 86% ▲▲

This is hitting too close to home now. Hank and his deductive skills. Always on point. Connor would pale if he could, because it feels like exactly this has happened already. He hasn’t considered this sort of approach yet. He would’ve been right not to worry too much about all of this if he were an ordinary android, but he is no ordinary android. Hank is right. He is considered almost as high profile as Markus himself. He has to fear something far worse than death or bodily harm due to anti-android aggression and racism. He might be facing a kidnapping. Hacking. Being taken and _forced_ to do something he doesn’t want to do at all. Amanda has said it. He's been _so close_ to it already. Standing right behind Markus with his finger on the trigger. And he's been programmed not to fail. 

That sudden, overwhelming sense of despair that Connor has felt in the timespan between stepping out of the Zen Garden and hugging Hank is back, feels like it’s almost crushing him. He stops walking once they’ve reached their secluded driveway just outside the small town center.

“They already tried” he then says, surprised at the sound of his own voice. Just like his body has done it earlier, his voice is trembling. Hank stops walking and turns around to look at him, eyes growing wider.

“What?”

“Right after the announcement. Amanda came back. She tried to resume control. She’s probably tried to do it ever since I had that dream. Seeing and hearing Markus in a state of emotional turmoil must’ve allowed her to succeed with her attempts of breaking my firewall” Connor explains. He’s tried to keep it to himself, but the truth is that he’s tired of keeping secrets, and this is too much of a burden to carry alone.

“She took on your appearance and voice in order to trick me and convince me. I managed to defy her and used Kamski’s emergency exit to get out again, but…”

Hank does all the growing pale for him. His eyes are wide and he’s obviously shocked by the revelation. His hand moves upward to rub at his mouth as he regards the android with a worried look on his face.

“Well, shit” he says, growing frustrated. Connor continues to look at him, unsure what to do or say about the whole deal either.

“Okay. That’s it. We’re leaving” the Lieutenant then says and starts walking again so they can head inside. Connor follows him immediately, not liking this at all. This feels like that night in Detroit all over again.

“Hank, we can’t just keep going from town to town” he tries, which results in Hank getting even angrier. Both continue walking and are getting close to their cabin now.

“Why the fuck not?” Hank shouts over his shoulder, and he’s _this_ close to just punching a tree or something now. He’s incredibly angry at Cyberlife and the shit they continue to pull, how they can manage to _scare_ Connor on the day of an announcement that is supposed to make him feel happy, safe and free, using _his_ face and _his_ voice to do it on top of it.

“Because you have 212 dollars and 25 cents left of the money you withdrew back in Detroit, and you’re approaching your first month without wages. It makes no sense to leave this town when we’ve already paid for this cabin for a whole month. Leaving it prematurely to drive to Toronto means you would spend twice as much on accommodation, and add up to your expenses with our additional need for fuel. Moving from town to town because of me is unnecessarily draining your resources.”

Hank stops dead in his tracks and looks at Connor in disbelief.

“Alright, I’m just gonna pretend you didn’t just fucking indicate your life is not even worth spending _212 fucking dollars_.”

The android looks back at him and has the courage smirk at him now.

“It’s actually worth $157.699,45 if you include server and cloud memory storage costs. Or $27.999 if we’re talking parts and hardware only.”

“ _Really?_ ” his partner asks, rolling his eyes. “I’m glad you have the audacity to laugh in the face of death and joke around now, but fuck you. Now’s not the time for this shit. This is _serious_.”

The android stops smirking and goes right back to looking scared and worried.

“I’m aware” he mutters, folding his arms over his chest. Then he has the courage to speak it out.

“Hank, I’m terrified.”

The look on the older man’s face visibly softens and he approaches the android so he can reach out for him.

“I know. But we’ll manage. We’ll just clear the field and start fresh some place where they haven’t seen you yet. Two more weeks. That’s all we gotta do. I got a message from Chris today. They want me back on the force by January. I can go back, maybe convince Fowler to give me an advance. I don’t give a fuck if I go broke. We’ll use that money to find a better place for you no matter what. Away from Cyberlife and all their bullshit. Don’t worry, son. We’ll keep you safe.”

Connor nods, appreciating the answer more than anything. He allows the Lieutenant to pull him back in for quick hug and holds on.

“You’re a good man, Hank. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Hank chuckles at this, although it hits close to home.

“Probably fucking die. Again.”

Connor lets go and laughs in his goofy but innocent way.

“Yeah. There’s a chance that’d happen.”

Hank scoffs and starts walking again, heading for the cabin to start packing.

“Don’t you fucking dare.”

They enter their place and are immediately greeted by Sumo, who never fails to bring a smile to their faces. Hank immediately starts packing his things together while Connor kneels down to pet the dog, look at him, let him calm him down. His partner continues to pace around, looking incredibly tired, worried, spent, and still in pain whenever he tries to do some heavier lifting. Connor gets up and keeps looking at him, mustering up the courage to talk about something that has been on his mind for a while now, has been brought back to his attention with Hank’s previous words and Amanda’s reappearance.

“There’s something we need to talk about before you go through with this, Hank. It’s important.”

Hank continues packing and barely listens, doesn’t even look at him as he’s busy.

“Uh yeah, sure. Shoot.”

Connor nods and approaches him slowly, trying to stall just a second more because he knows Hank’ll get angry at the topic. But just like he’s said, this is important.

“First of all, you need to understand that no matter what happens next, it’s not your fault. You’ve done everything humanly possible and I know that. You need to know this, too.”

The Lieutenant finally stops pacing around and looks at the android, surprised by this. Connor keeps looking at him with a genuine expression on his face and continues.

“And even if you decide that it’s too emotionally or financially taxing for you to continue this friendship and you have no other choice but to go separate ways, I completely understand, too. This would be the perfect time to do it. You don't _have_ to keep running with me. It is okay. You’ve already done more for me than any human as ever done in my life. And I appreciate this in ways you can’t imagine.”

Hank grits his teeth because he gets what Connor is trying to say, trying to prevent.

“I already told you it’s gonna be fine and that we’ll figure it out. Stop wasting time thinking about stuff that’ll never happen. We're going to Toronto and we're gonna be just fine” the older man mutters angrily and tries to go back to packing, but the android raises his voice to keep his attention.

“Hank. I don’t think I need to tell you the exact probabilities of all outcomes regarding my fate. You know most of the plausible scenarios. After Cole and everything that happened, you being so unprepared, I think you should be better prepared this time so you can cope in better ways than with alcoholism and Russian Roulette. This is why I’m telling you. I don’t want to see all that positive impact and encouragement go to waste just because of something I’ve seen coming, but failed to prepare you for.”

 _I don’t want to die having left no positive impact on you whatsoever_. That is what Connor trying to say without actually speaking the words out. And that is enough for Hank to lose it a bit more. He sets the jacket he’s been holding down on the table and approaches Connor slowly, but angrily.

“Here’s something you need to fucking understand now: no amount of preparation would’ve made the loss of my son any fucking easier. If someone had told me about the chances of Cole dying or getting hurt beforehand, I wouldn’t have thanked them for preparing me for grim times ahead, I would’ve used the knowledge to try to prevent that anything happens to him in the first place. That’s the difference between being a calculated machine and being human, Connor. You don’t just take things for granted without questioning it and throw your hands in the air because you know the numbers. You fight for the ones you love no matter what, even when you know you’ll lose. You _try_. I already lost my _child_. If anything, I’m more prepared than ever now. So stop spouting bullshit.“

Connor won’t back down and keeps looking at him.

“Trying to prevent that anything happens to you, Markus, or anyone else is exactly what I’m trying to do here, Hank” he then says softly, and his partner is surprised to see a sudden shift in him, how he looks almost at peace again.

“I’ve done everything I can within my program to protect and shield myself from Cyberlife. But my scopes are limited. There are some functions within my code that need to remain intact in order for me to function. Amanda isn’t an extension of my code, she is embedded within its very core. All I can do is contain her. I have the emergency exit Kamski gave me, but just like everything else inside my program, things can be changed or broken. There is a very real chance that Cyberlife might succeed and resume control of my program eventually and we need to be prepared for this.”

Hank knows that this is true, even though he barely knows how Connor operates on a technological level. And because he barely understands this part, he has enough reason to continue to be stubborn about that reality.

“There’s also a real fucking chance they might _not_. I thought you’re sophisticated enough to weigh things equally, not become overly fucking pessimistic. You should stop taking after me so fucking much.”

Connor gives him a little smile because he has to agree with Hank on that one.

“I know. You’re right. There’s also a high probability that it won’t happen. And I’ll be more than happy to accept that. Don’t get me wrong. I want to _live,_ Hank. I want to go back to Detroit with you one day. Join the DPD and do what I was designed to do. Solve crime and be of assistance. But we still need to talk about this. Because one day, you might wake up or turn around to see me standing there with a gun pointed at your head. Because without a doubt, if Cyberlife succeeds with what they tried to do today and what they’ve tried a month ago, _this_ will happen first. They will try to make me kill you. You’re the reason I deviated and parted ways with them. They know I’ve formed an attachment to you. That’s why they made the other Connor kidnap and shoot you in Detroit, and this is why she continues to make me shoot you in my dreams, why she’s using _your_ likeness to talk to me now. With you gone, there’s nothing left for me but to give in and do as they say. You’ll be the only person capable of stopping anything bad from happening. Which is why I need you to hear this so you’ll be prepared for it. You gave me life, and I want you to take it if something like that happens. I don’t want to be a machine taking orders anymore. I don’t want to kill anyone. I want to be _me_. And if I have to die in order to keep you and Markus safe, I want to die knowing that I managed to make your life a little better regardless. What I’m trying to say is: I might die. I might not. No matter what, it won’t be your fault, and it won’t be anything you have to hate yourself for. I need to know that you’ll go on with your life with or without me.”

Hank is perfectly aware of how this won’t happen. He won’t be able to go on, won’t be able to take any of this for a second time. He’d probably do what Connor is begging him to do, kill him if it happens just so the android won’t be forced to shoot him against his will, but there’s no way he’d be able to keep going after something as fucked up as this. It doesn’t matter that it wouldn’t be his fault, it’d be excruciating regardless and he’s pretty sure that the android knows this. And because the thought alone is so painful, Hank refuses to accept that anything like that could ever really happen in the first place. So he decides to lie to the both of them. Connor first, by promising that he will do it, and then to himself next, in his mind. Telling himself that the chances of that happening are at a solid 0 even when they're not. Because there is no way in hell he’ll go down without fighting it. He’s not a coward anymore, knows who he’s always been. A man of honor and courage. A fighter. And more than anything, he is a _father_. Unlike his maker who’s decided to never care at all, it is in his very DNA to protect his family. He tells Connor to get going and pack his own things because that’s something he has now – clothes and property. Sure, it sucks that they have to leave this place as a precaution, after almost a month of getting comfortable and feeling somewhat safe here. But he’ll keep moving and running over and over again, go broke and that gladly, as long as it's keeping Connor alive and with him.


	11. Family

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back with a new and very heartfelt chapter. Thank you once again for all the kuddos and comments! love you all.

**Ontario Highway 115**  
**Dec 20th, 2038**  
**AM 12:13**

 

Although the distinct tunes of heavy metal are filling the air inside the Oldsmobile, it is quiet, far too quiet for Hank’s liking. Connor isn’t talking again, not about the _case_ , or Toronto, not humming along to the tunes, or cutting through the silence with that constant _cling_ of that coin of his. Even though he probably could still be doing it simultaneously, Connor isn’t playing with the coin because he’s behind the wheel.  He’s steering the car with his eyes fixed on the road, not saying a word. For a while, Hank does the humming along for the android, fingers drumming along to the heavy rhythm, trying to keep himself in that headspace of ‘ _We're going to Toronto and we're gonna be just fine’._ Which isn’t exactly easy, considering how he can’t get their last conversation out of his mind.  It’s like an echo, still lingering in this quiet. Connor telling him that he’s _terrified_. Connor asking him to _kill_ him if it all goes south.

It’s not the heavy metal that is deafening inside this car, driving him crazy. It’s the never-ending silence between them. He considers pulling the cliché weather talk to start a conversation and stop that silence but decides that it’s bullshit. His friend can probably foretell an entire year’s worth of weather and find the observation of today’s weather rightfully insignificant. Or, knowing Connor, he’d probably use the weather talk as an invitation to give him another one of his boring and impersonal scientific talks about how snowflakes are made, leaving him no room for eventually and subtlety leading the conversation in the right direction. So Hank stares straight ahead at the road just like Connor, hating the sight of ice and snow all around them. It still makes him think about the son he’s lost, about how he could lose another one now.

He grits his teeth and then lifts his hand up to point at a car on the opposite side of the road.

“Red one.”

It does the trick and snaps Connor right out of his stoic state. He frowns and shifts in his seat, looking a lot less statuesque at last.

“Excuse me?”

Hank smirks just a tiny bit and folds his arms over his chest, pleased to see that he’s gained the android’s interest.

“I counted a red car. And by the time you finally pick a color and start counting yours, I’ll probably have counted another one. Should get moving on this, else I’m gonna kick your ass in this game.”

Connor scoffs at this with a surprised and sheepish smile. Hank doesn’t need to see a swirling yellow LED to know that he’s probably determining if this is some sort of trick, how he might consider it a waste of time, too confusing and not adequate given their current situation. He’s pleasantly surprised when Connor won’t ask him what he’s doing or why he’s doing it, is even more surprised when a machine as smart and analytical as him won’t settle on one of the most popular car colors such as silver, black or white in order to win the game.

“Okay. I’ll let you know as soon as I spot my first blue one.”

Hank smiles right back at him, still happy to hear that this Connor right here doesn’t care about statistics and efficiency and winning anymore. This one understands what the game is actually is about. This one picks a color that is not based on statistics, but on preferences. Because this one’s favorite color is blue.

Hank nods and looks ahead again, eventually realizing that maybe he’s fucked up with their color choices after all. There aren’t exactly that many red or blue cars driving around. It’ll probably take a while, maybe even until they actually reach Toronto until they come across another one of those, meaning that he hasn’t exactly given himself many instances to keep the talk up after all. He’s once again glad that Connor’s changed so much and quickly, because unlike during his time as a machine, he doesn’t strictly stick to the task of counting and instead takes the hint, keeps the conversation up on his own. Even if the following is awkward and unpleasant.

“Is this a game you used to play with your son?”

Hank purses his lips and looks down at the hands in his lap. Even though it has become a bit easier to talk about Cole, talk about it with Connor, it still hurts. Especially now when he’s inside a car on a snowy road. For a second, he swears he’s caught a glimpse of blood on his hands again, _Cole’s blood_ , mixed with his own from deep cuts after the crash. He’s quick to look away from them and fixes his eyes on the rear view mirror instead, not knowing where else to look since he cannot look at his own hands, can’t bring himself to look at the road without seeing the crash, can’t look at Connor next to him because he looks like Cole, all grown up. And in the rear view mirror, he can see little Cole sitting there for a moment, sitting in the backseat with that bright and happy smile on his face, giggling and pointing ahead, excited to count the cars.

“Uh yeah. He played it religiously” Hank says, and he gets himself together enough to be able to face the road again. There’s no more ghosts or memories, just sleeping Sumo in the backseat and a clear and _safe_ road ahead.

“Which color did he pick?” Connor asks, obviously trying to engage in small talk since Hank has initiated it, trying so hard to show that he cares, wants to get to know him better, help him get over it. Hank grunts a bit and looks at Connor.

“Blue. It was his favorite color.”

He hasn’t meant for it to sound so angry and accusing, as if it’s wrong of Connor to pick the same color, like it only belonged to Cole. But it still sounds way too much like it, and he wants to kick himself when the android is quick to back off and withdraw with a clumsy and apologetic “Oh.” As if he too thinks he has no right to claim the color for himself.

Hank spots a blue car on the opposite side of the highway and although it’s clear that Connor has seen it, too, he won’t count it or say anything regarding the matter at all. So Hank lets out a soft sigh, feeling bad for the tone in his voice.

“Missed your first one” he says, pointing behind himself with his thumb, letting Connor know that it’s okay to pick the blue ones after all.

Connor nods, considering everything for a moment, until he looks more content and starts smirking.

“Blue one” he counts, taking the hint. The Lieutenant nods as well and settles into a more comfortable position, feeling like he’s done an okay enough job of steering this wreck of a conversation into safer waters again. Connor has told him over and over and over again to move past his trauma, talk about it, let it go. And since the android has started doing the same thing with his whole Cyberlife and Amanda issues, he feels it’s the right thing to do.

“It’s what I’ve been trying to teach him with this, y’know. Be aware of your surroundings. Observational skills. Patience. Figured I might get him started on it early. Also helped trying to get him to learn how to count.”

“It’s scientifically proven that play takes on a crucial role in a child’s cognitive, intellectual and physical development. You made the right call.”

Hank scoffs, still having a hard time buying the whole ‘ _you’re a good father’_ talk.

“Yeah well, you don’t have to be Einstein to figure that one out. It’s just the kinda shit you do during road trips as boring as this.”

“Blue one” Connor counts when a blue SUV pulls out of the entrance ramp in front of them. Hank takes a look around, but there is no red car in sight. After a moment he grows curious and senses a right kind of opening to steer their conversation in the direction he wants it to go.

“So how did you learn all the stuff you can do? I still don’t know jackshit about you androids.”

He starts chuckling to himself at a silly thought, how ridiculous it is. “Don’t suppose you took a class in ‘How To Robot 101’ in android school, didcha now.”

Connor’s face shows an amusing mix of confusion, disbelief and amusement all at once.

“I was programmed to do the things I can do. You know that.”

Hank turns his head to look at him, intrigued.

“So what, people just write a few lines of code and suddenly here we go, instant perfect super program?” The thought of it makes him scoff. “Damn. Wish it worked that way with humans.”

Connor uses the blinker and overtakes the blue car, rolling his eyes at the remark.

“You know, contrary to what you like to believe, Hank, I’m not actually perfect.”

The Lieutenant lets out an exasperated gasp and widens his eyes in fake surprise.

“You don’t say.”

The RK800 nods, oblivious to the sarcasm.

“It’s the truth. My model ran through a whole series of tests and adjustments before I was even allowed to exit the Cyberlife tower. I passed the Turing Test with the finished assembly of my very first body, but I failed a lot of other trials too. Technically speaking, my ‘perfect super program’ is still failing and needs further adjustment to be perfected. I’m still just a prototype in testing.”

Although Connor has shed his uniform weeks ago, Hank is suddenly and once again very much aware of the serial number issue. Seeing him turn up each time after yet another death, the number continuously rising. How he's only just met him already in his 50s. -51. -52. -53. -54. -60. And instead of getting ‘better’ each android has been more fucked up in its own way. Be it more and more deviant, or as cold and sadistic as -60 had been in the end. He knows that this is another nasty and deep can of worms, but it’s another one the Lieutenant feels he needs to open to really get to the bottom of it all. Connor’s struggles, the hacking, the whole idea behind the android. Hank tries to look and sound casual and sensitive, but he’s not sure if it does the trick with his android friend.

“So what you’re basically saying is that they taught you all these things by building and killing you a bunch of times until you got it right.”

Hank shakes his head and looks ahead with a frustrated growl.

“Just when I thought Cyberlife reached the absolute peak of fucked up. It’s like popping out one toddler after another and killing each one that doesn’t learn how to walk fast enough.”

That remark makes Connor frown angrily.

“It’s not like that at all. I was never a toddler. And they didn’t kill me either. I was a work in progress, and I wasn’t alive at the time. You can’t kill what’s not alive” he is quick to say, and his partner is surprised to hear how defensive and angry the android immediately gets again when he shouldn’t be. The Lieutenant presses his fingertips to the bridge of his nose and closes his eyes in frustration. _Here we go again_.

“Connor. We’ve talked about this a shitload of times by now. I ain’t….” Hank says warningly, instantly pissed off at the remark, too. He’s taken note of how Connor has said ‘alive at the time’ at least, seems to _finally_ have taken the hint that he _is_ alive now. But even then, the android continues to be stubborn, insists in that obnoxious way of his.

“No, we haven’t. The first 21 models were tested within a computer and server based platform. They didn’t even have a physical body yet. They weren’t killed, if anything, they were adjusted, deleted or overwritten with upgraded code. Nothing more. You shouldn’t get emotional about something like that, and you need to stop comparing it to human death. It’s unhealthy, because it’s _nothing_ like that at all” the android interrupts him, continuing to sound stubborn, angry, and very obviously in denial. The Lieutenant scoffs and turns away a bit, fed up with that talk and his friend’s stubbornness. He doesn’t want to talk about this anymore, over and over again. And he’s seriously starting to wonder why he keeps asking about it anyway since it does indeed make him emotional every single time.

“Yeah, y’know what, go right ahead. Keep telling yourself that like a broken record. And go fuck yourself while you’re at it. _Not get emotional about it_ my ass.”

They both fall silent, until the younger man continues on his own, sounding apologetic and slightly defeated.

“To answer your question : Machine based learning. That’s how I learned everything I can do. Inside a computer. I had access to all relevant knowledge, skills and protocols all at once, not through parental guidance and gradual learning like humans infants or like…Cole. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you with my previous choice of words.”

Hank shakes his head a bit and looks out of the window to his right, trying hard to sound easy going and relaxed, but he’s still a bit cranky.

“I think we all know who’s upset here.”

Connor’s grip around the steering wheel tightens once again, just like every time he feels called out. Although there is another red and blue car on the opposite road during the next few minutes, neither of the two of them continue the game. Hank is busy trying to come up with something else to say to salvage the mood, and he’s relieved that it’s once again Connor who keeps the talk up.

 “Do you mind if I pull over for a moment, Hank?”

“I think I need a fucking break anyway. Sure. Let’s take a pit stop” the Lieutenant is quick to agree, and he’s glad that it doesn’t take long for them to find a rest area.

Connor turns the car engine off and just sits there for a moment, obviously gathering up some courage to say whatever he has to say and Hank is glad that it takes some time, because he needs a moment, too.

 In a way, this really feels like they’re stuck a terrible, never-ending loop. He doesn’t know how many times they’ve sat inside this car to have a talk now, but it’s been way too many. This is something he’d been ready for once, had signed up for initially when he and his wife had decided on starting a family. Years ago, he’d thought about moments like this so many times. Thinking about how when Cole would be old enough, they would need to have all these talks about growing up, puberty, adulthood, life. All the crises, the fights, the drama, the pep talk, everything his own father had never been there for. Years ago, he’d been ready for it, thought himself to be ready for it. He knows he’s lucky he even gets a second shot at this after everything, so he’s patient, will do it again and again, if only it helps Connor. Even when he’s utter shit at it now. The fact that Connor is equally emotionally clumsy doesn’t help with the whole ordeal. It is true that he’s a machine, built to be ever so fast and efficient. But for someone like that, Connor sure needs his time, is a lot slower in the emotional department than anyone else he knows. But in the end that’s okay.

“There’s something else I didn’t tell you about earlier. I think it’s the reason why I just became…agitated” the android opens up eventually.

All that previous talk is instantly forgotten and Hank finds himself looking at the android, worry spreading across his features in an instant.

“Woah, wait. What the fuck else is going on? I thought the whole hacking thing was bad enough.”

Connor isn’t looking at him, but starts fumbling with the sleeves of his shirt instead.

 “I’ve started…noticing new thoughts and emotions within my program” he tries to explain. Hank just looks at him and waits, interested, but still worried.

“Okay. That’s…good I guess?”

“It’s not. It’s irritating. You just heard what they did. They just made me sound like an asshole to you.”

Hank barks out a laugh at this, startling Sumo behind them and making him bark once, too. Connor looks at Hank in an accusing manner and turns around to pet and calm the dog. Hank reaches back as well to pet Sumo affectionately as well, just once, but well enough to get the point across.

“Sorry. That was a good one. Go ahead.”

Connor does crack a little smile at him, but it doesn’t last long. He looks away and gets lost in his thoughts all over again.

“I think I’ve started feeling envious.”

Hank chuckles to himself with a confused frown, not getting it.

“What, of me? Don’t be ridiculous. There’s nothing to envy me for, Connor. I mean, have you _looked_ at me and the clusterfuck that is my life lately?  I keep telling yah, you need to stop following my every step and action like a poodle.”

“No, it’s not like that, I…” Connor lets out a frustrated sigh and looks down, focusing on his hands in his lap instead of Hank to his right. “It’s just…after I saw that photo of your son on your kitchen table, I looked him up. I researched everything there is to know about you and him. And ever since I did that, I… whenever you tell me more about the life he had with you now, and ask me about myself in relation to that, I…it makes me feel so many things at once and it’s…confusing.”

Hank continues to look at Connor, surprised to see and hear him speak like this, the complete opposite of his usually well-articulated, composed self. Right now the android just looks conflicted and puzzled.

“Alright, just take a breather for a second, because I don’t understand a word you’re saying, son” is all he can say, equally helpless but willing to try. He tries to reach out for him but Connor visibly squirms and looks angry again. Then he suddenly exits the car, just like that. He closes the door and leans against it with his back turned on Hank, arms folding around himself. Hank stares at the android’s back against the window for a second, utterly surprised by the sudden reaction. After a bunch of confused blinking, he eventually gets out of the car as well, slowly circling it to walk over to his friend. Connor continues to stand where he is, leaned against the car, holding himself, staring at the snow to his feet. By the time the Lieutenant reaches him and settles against the car right next to him, Connor has calmed down enough to keep talking.

“I’m not him, Hank.” he says quietly, his voice full of sorrow and disappointment. Although Hank believes he’s starting to get this whole thing, he won’t say anything just yet, he just lets Connor talk.

“I’m not your son” the android goes on, and it doesn’t sound like an accusation or reminder at all. It sounds like a painful realization. He eventually looks right at Hank. “Do you know why I asked you if I should simulate him for you shortly after you tried to kill yourself? And why I keep asking you about him even though I don’t like hearing about it? I thought I did it because that’s what I’ve been programmed to do. Get to know your partner. Be who your partner needs you to be. Say what your partner wants you to say. Ask your partner all about what matters to him. It’s supposed to be all about you. Helping you get over it, making you feel better. But I’ve started to realize that I’m actually just doing it for myself. I don’t envy you, I envy _Cole_. And I think it’s because I wish I could have the same relationship with you that you two shared.”

Hank sure remembers that evening back at the lake, back when Connor had still been way out of his league with all of this, completely oblivious and shell-shocked from his sudden deviancy. The awkward suggestion, his willingness to simulate a dead child for him. He doesn’t know what to say and it doesn’t really matter, because the android is far from finished. Connor starts pacing around, becoming more nervous and agitated by the second.

 “Amanda knew about this before I did. I already told you that she used your likeness and your voice to try to convince me to resume my program, but do you know what exactly she said? ‘ _You’re like a_ _son_ _to me._ _I only want what’s best for you. Let me help you’_ She said that with your voice because she knew it’s something I’d like to hear _you_ say.  And she nearly succeeded with her plan to lure me in this way. She always knew I’d eventually try to replace her with a digital version of you inside my Zen Garden because I consider you a much better parental figure than her. She's said before that they're just waiting for the right opportunity to resume control of me.  It was _my_ fault Cyberlife managed to hack me again. I gave them the opportunity. I gave them an entry point. I should’ve been more careful. I should’ve guessed they would be using my childish efforts at a make-belief world against me.”

The RK800 looks at his partner again, but doesn’t get a reply. It makes him feel all the more uncomfortable, so he decides to just keep talking, make it better somehow. He settles back against the car and looks away.

 “I’m sorry. I should’ve told you about this when I mentioned the hacking attempt. I know it’s inappropriate. You’re my partner. You’re human. I’m a machine. We’ve known each other for barely a month now. I understand that it’s…I just think you should know. Before we go on. If you still want to.”

Hank just stands right next to him and looks at the android with an unreadable expression on his face. Even his vitals are hard to read, so for the first time in his life, Connor can’t make any sense of the information available to him at all.

“You replaced her with a digital version of me. Inside your head. As parental figure” he repeats, and Connor visibly squirms and looks even more uncomfortable.

“Yes. I needed someone to confide in the way I could do it with her before she tried to deactivate me. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that. And I should’ve told you.”

He eventually puts his arms around himself again and goes right back to staring holes in the air.

“If it’s any consolation, it didn’t actually work. It just made me realize that you were right. It’s not the same. A digital imitation I mean. Or a machine imitating a human. It doesn’t really matter. It’ll never replace a human being that matters to you. I know that now. I’m sorry I’m not human.  I’m sorry I’m not your son. I know you wish I were. At least now you know I wish I were, too.”

Hank is still just _staring_ at him, has barely said a word apart from repeating a few things Connor has said, and that’s all he can do yet again.

“You wish you were like Cole. You want to be my son.”

Connor just looks right back at him, lips pressed together to a thin line. It’s obvious that he’s too afraid to say anything after he’s already poured his heart out. There’s a lot of things Hank knows he should say, wants to say in this moment, but all that comes out is a disbelieving, accusing “Why?” He doesn’t give the android a chance to explain, because he just keeps going. “Why the fuck would you want _me_ to be a father figure to you? You just spent an entire fucking month _babysitting_ me because I’m a miserable fucking drunk who can’t even take care of himself. You wanna be like Cole? You know I got him _killed_ , right? Why the fuck would you want that?”

He doesn’t understand why it makes him so angry. Sure, in a way he's always braced himself for something like that to happen, which is exactly why he's never actually proposed it himself. He's always figured his temper might fuck it up, but not so much. He's fuming, and honestly doesn't understand why he feels that way. It’s _everything_ he’s ever wanted during the past month, everything he’s hoped for since meeting Connor in that damn bar. It’s what he’s constantly been thinking about during their time here, repeating it like a mantra in his head, over and over again whenever he’s looked at the android. _I wish this were real and not just a cover story. I wish you were my son. I wish this were real and not just a cover story. I wish you were my son._ He _loves_ the kid. And he has it all right here now, on a silver plate. Reciprocated affection. Connor actually wants them to be a family, too, just like he's hoped for. He's getting a second shot at this, after three years of pain, misery and loneliness. And he doesn’t know how to deal with it. He’s surprised when the android’s previous defeat and quiet suddenly gets replaced by an equal amount of harsh anger when Connor challenges him right back.

 “Seriously, Hank?  Why do you think I’d want that? You know, you can stop thinking you can lead me on with all your talk about how ‘bad’ and ‘poisonous’ you are. I know _exactly_ who you are and what you did. I’ve read everything there is to know about you and your son. You have no criminal record whatsoever and were a decorated, honorable police officer. I know that you and your wife went to see several doctors to make sure you could have a child, that he’d be healthy and safe given your age. I know about every single item you bought for Cole before and after he was born. I know everything you looked up on the internet to be prepared, I know about every book you ordered and read, every class you signed up for and visited with your wife. I know that you bought five different colors of paint for his room, and how you bought a sixth one and repainted it when he was four years old because it turns out he hated to green you settled on.  I know that you bought him that toy airplane that he wanted even though it was ridiculously overpriced. I also know that you bought that brand new autonomous car shortly after he was born, because you considered it safer for him to be in than having him in a manually driven 40 year old car that you’ve owned since you went to high school. You gave this child six years worth of unconditional love and caring and lost it to a series of unfortunate and random events. Meanwhile, I was commissioned and designed by 14 people I’ve never even seen or met. I was created for the sole purpose of creating profit in a new market segment for a billion dollar company. I was assembled and killed 50 times in a Cyberlife assembly plant before I even had the chance to go outside and live, and by that, I mean be sold to work as office equipment in a hostile work environment. Everything I’ve known or had any sort of relationship with has been an incorporeal corporate representative AI designed to tell me that my life is of no importance, that all that matters is my mission to hunt, neutralize and kill what I was designed to be. And then one day, I meet a man who tells me that I’m alive and that my life actually _matters,_ who helps me understand. So take guess why I’d want that.”

Connor keeps standing there and looks at him, obviously expecting an answer after his outburst, pouring his heart out all over again. An answer. An action. Anything. Maybe a hug, probably more of an argument, but Hank is surprised to find out that all of this has pretty much paralyzed him, rendered him speechless. It’s one thing thinking about it all the time, but something else entirely when it’s suddenly real. All of this is moving forward far too quickly, like a rollercoaster ride that he doesn’t even want to be on. Connor saving him from killing himself just a month ago. Connor turning up in the first place. Them being here in Canada, far away from home. Connor turning from an emotionless and passive machine into a living being with needs and wants. With all of his emotions, his deep anger.  Everything that’s happened and is happening in Detroit and Washington. Then there’s also everything else the android has dropped on him like a nuclear bomb of truth just an hour prior _._

_I’ve been hacked. They want to program me to kill someone. They want me to kill you. Please kill me if it gets to that.  
And by the way, I’d like you to be my dad._

It’s too fucking much.

The android stands there and looks at him expectantly, but Hank just turns on his heels and walks back to his side of the car. He places a hand on the door handle but stops in his tracks to look at Connor again, who looks surprised, hurt and disappointed by his lack of a reaction, is still waiting for one. It’s right there on Hank’s tongue. _Of **course** you’re like a son to me_.  He opens his mouth, but he just can’t get the words out. Instead, all he can bring himself to say is a quiet “Let’s keep going.” He’s quick to get inside the car, disappointed and angry with himself for stalling. He knows that even if he were to back down and get it out now, it wouldn’t feel genuine, wouldn’t do Connor justice. The moment’s passed, because he’s fucked it up. Again.

* * *

 

 **Queen’s Motel  
Scarborough, Toronto**  
**Dec 20th, 2038**  
**PM 1:52**

 

The place is an absolute shithole compared to the cabin they’ve stayed in prior to this. Sure enough, the place is clean. There’s no bed bugs or mold or other scary motel surprises. But there is no kitchen, no fridge, just a shitty bathtub with a showerhead that barely provides any warm water, and he can feel each individual _shitty_ spring inside the mattress he sits on. The TV has probably already been old back in 2010 and only has two channels but a surprisingly big list of rental porn on its list, not that it matters. He’s seen worse, even though the area the motel is in sure tries hard to match some of the shadier districts he’s roamed in Detroit. But it’s cheap enough, at least that’s what Connor’s said, ever so worried about the state of his finances, now that they’re running on fumes. In a way, Hank still likes the room, the area. It fits the current mood, his current state of mind, and more than anything it sure does prepare him for the time when he’s finally back in Detroit.

Apart from any necessary exchanges, Connor hasn’t talked to him ever since their little heart to heart back on the highway.

Hank’s been afraid of watching the android leave with Sumo in tow the moment they’ve settled in the room, but luckily that hasn’t happened yet. The android is still with him, busy petting Sumo and staring holes in the air, obviously upset and confused and disappointed, but he’s there at least. It’s not exactly like the older of the two friends hasn’t considered up and leaving the moment they’ve settled in here either. To go looking for the nearest bar, for the first time in over a week of positive development regarding his drinking habit. He’s thinking and feeling a _lot_ right now, more than he can bear, and his first instinct is to still kill it, nip things in the bud. But he doesn’t do it, refuses to do it all thanks to the android in this room, the android he still owes an answer. He knows that he needs to say it out loud, but it’s still so hard to actually do it. He’s thought he’s been fairly obvious enough, his actions speaking louder than words, even if he has to admit that it has taken him his fair share of time to get it himself. More than anything, he feels ashamed of himself yet again. For different reasons this time, though, and he once again owes it to the android.

His reaction has been ridiculous and childish. He’s all the more aware of it now. He’s finally starting to really understand things now, how all of his grief and depression has twisted him into a man he barely recognizes, doesn’t want to be anymore. He knows that Cole’s death is utterly horrible, that he has a right to grief and feel depressed and upset about it. It is the worst thing that has happened to him in his life, but it doesn’t mean that it’s the worst thing in the world, the way his depression likes to have him think. Before the accident, he’s had a _good_ life, has been a different man. And he knows he’s been a good father because he’s made sure of it. He doesn’t even know anymore when he’s started believing this lie that he’s been a horrible person. Unlike Connor, he’s had a year’s worth of therapy. He’s had three years to come to terms with it. He should know better.  Connor has had it a _lot_ worse than him and is only just starting to get it. If anything, he would’ve been right to make the whole thing about himself, his pain. But he hasn’t. He’s striving for betterment, focusing on the positive things.  

Of _course_ Connor would want to be like Cole. He doesn’t understand why the hell he’s asked him for a reason.

Hank feels ashamed of his initial reaction and more than anything, he feels ashamed for having forgotten about so many things Connor has reminded him off. He’s ashamed that he’s killed and drowned all those good memories of being a father because of his grief. All those latenighters of reading up on first time parenting.  All that preparation and excitement for Cole to be welcomed home for the very first time. That airplane. The paint. Not the car though. How could he ever forget about that one. Reading about all their fancy algorithms, how they could determine a person’s worth during a crash in milliseconds, determining who to hit, who to safe, how to crash and stop to provide the best chances of survival. A machine that had supposed to be _perfect_ and flawless. Just like Connor, it has failed its purpose, its mission. And it hadn’t been its fault. His fault. It hadn’t been anyone’s fault.

 _It wasn’t your fault_ , _Lieutenant._

He hasn’t killed Cole. He’s given him everything he’s had to offer. He knows that now. And he’s had no right to make Connor’s confession about himself and his self-hatred over this nonexistent lie.

It still flatters and perplexes him at the same time, how _much_ Connor has really looked into him right from the start. Even when it had ben irrelevant to his mission back then. He’s said that Amanda has told him he’d been _designed_ to deviate right from the very beginning. If anything, all that research alone makes it so obvious now, in hindsight. How much he cares, how much he feels. That android loves him right back. And he’s fucked it up.

 _Shit_.

He looks at the younger man who refuses to look back at him, talk to him. Even if he doesn’t talk right now, his actions still speak louder than words.  Connor is sitting on the ground with Sumo as he pets him, because the room is tiny and there is just a single bed. Not even a couch or a chair. Just a table, squeezed into the corner by the bed. The android’s barely commented on it, only saying that it’s cheaper that way and he doesn’t sleep, doesn’t need a bed. Despite their previous talk having gone awry, he is _still_ looking out for him, making everything he’s said even more painful. _I’m sorry I’m not human_. Sitting on the ground right next to the dog.

_Connor. Oh Connor._

He’s once said that he’s worth a small fortune. Not understanding that he’s actually _priceless_ with all that goodness, with that much heart. He’s more human than most people he knows.

How many times has this android tried to get him understand now? Everything he’s said. The post its.

 _I know you don’t agree but I really think you’re a good man. Caring. Intelligent. Kind. And an outstanding police officer. You’re a lot of things you don’t give yourself enough credit for._  
_YOU’RE A GOOD PERSON._  
_YOU’RE A VERY BRAVE MAN.  
__YOU’RE A GREAT FATHER FIGURE._  
COLE WOULD BE PROUD OF YOU.

 _Make him proud, Hank_. He tells himself. Only wishing he actually deserved to call a person like Connor his son.

It _finally_ goes click inside his head. The right way to approach this, deal with Cole’s death. Cole wouldn’t want him to be in so much pain because of him. Cole wouldn’t want his father to die to a bullet to his head. Connor is right. This child has left _so_ much behind. Pain of course. And grief. But more than anything, he’s left him with all that love he’s been willing to give him. Love that shouldn’t be turned into something so dark and negative. He would _want_ him to pass it on. Give it to a person who really needs it. In his memory. For him.

Hank lets out a soft sigh and shifts on the bed, moving a bit to make space.

“Connor. Come on, get up from that floor. Sit with me” he mutters, patting the space next to himself. Sumo instinctively looks up, feeling addressed. He starts waggling his tail and tries to get up, but Connor’s grip on him is firm.

“I’m comfortable right here, Lieutenant. Thank you for your concern.”

Here he has him. An android. Holding a grudge against him. A justifiable one, but it’s still a bit ironic. Hank smirks a little, happy to realize that his time of being confused, conflicted and angry is over. His time of being depressed and confused is over. He’s finally ready for this. Even if it has taken him way too long. This is the last nail to Cole's coffin. For good.

“It’ll just take a second. Come on. I need your help with something.”

Connor finally raises his head and looks at him, seeing right through the lie. Hank knows it’s always useless to try to fool an android that has been designed to interrogate and detect lies for a living, but he does it nevertheless. He pets the spot next to himself once again and gives his friend a reassuring nod when he finally obliges. Connor gets up from the ground and walks over to him but refuses to sit down, just stands there right in front of him all over again. Still challenging him for an answer with sheer body language alone. Hank takes his time to look up at him, feeling so _proud_ all over again. How far his friend has come. No longer taking orders. Showing defiance and a sense of right and wrong. Not afraid to tower over a human in a challenging way even though he has been designed to please their every waking command and wish, sit on the ground and fetch like a dog.

The Lieutenant eventually gets up from the bed and stands right in front of the android, too. Then he closes the distance between them, slowly but determined, and pulls him in for an embrace.

“You **are** like a son to me” he tells him quietly, holding on, saying what Connor has told him he wants to hear more than anything. He strokes the android’s back affectionately, hoping it rectifies his earlier wrongdoings. Hoping that it’s enough for the android so he no longer needs an artificial digital copy of him to tell him in his head, something these Cyberlife pricks can use to exploit and torment him with. Never again.

Connor doesn’t move at all, doesn’t even wrap his arms around Hank to return the hug because he’s obviously perplexed by this. All he manages is a confused “Hank?”, which only makes the Lieutenant hold him tighter.

“It’s okay. You’re right, you’re not Cole. And you don’t have to be. You’re you. That’s more than enough. You don’t have to be him to consider yourself part of this family. I think Cole would tell you the exact same thing. He would’ve been happy to welcome you. And he would’ve liked you just as much as I do.”

Connor finally returns the hug, slowly and clumsily, and it’s enough the send his partner over the edge a bit more.

“Fuck, I’m sorry I screwed this up earlier. You didn’t deserve that. Just took me way too fucking long to get it.”

The android scoffs once, and Hank is surprised to hear that his voice is shaky.

“No I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have rushed you like that. I know how difficult this is for you.”

The Lieutenant laughs once, not quite ready to let him go yet.

“No shit” he says, but eventually does let go. He places his hand on Connor’s shoulder to squeeze it again, no matter how useless the action is because the android is too solid. He can’t help but chuckle at the look on Connor’s face, how utterly shocked he is by this. He’s never seen the android like this before. He grows more serious while he just holds on to him.

“Look, Connor. I’m not gonna lie. I’m _terrified_ by all this. I’m pretty much losing my shit over it. But I’m willing to give this a go. Fuck it, truth is I’ve been thinking about it ever since you called me after the revolution.  After all the pep talk I’ve done during the past month I think it’s become pretty clear that I’m the closest thing you’ll ever have to a parent anyway, so who are we kidding. And I sure as hell am a lot better than that psycho bitch in your head. But here's the deal. If we’re gonna do this, you gotta promise me something first.”

Connor frowns, voice still trembling.

“Promise you what?”

Hank looks at him for a long time, thinking everything he has to say through before speaking.

 “You’re a fighter, Connor. So I want you to promise me that you’ll fight. And that you’ll _keep_ fighting. No matter what happens. I don’t care if they try to hack you over and over again or if we have to keep moving from town to town just…promise me you’ll always keep fighting. For what’s right, for what you want, and for yourself. Promise me that if it ever comes down to Cyberlife or..some other shit to happen, you’ll fight it. So they can’t kill you, so I don’t have to kill you because I won’t. I know I said I would earlier, but the truth is..I won't. Just…promise me that you won’t die.”

Connor looks honestly surprised and troubled by this. He looks firmly into his friend’s eyes, trying to show that he appreciates the sentiment and is being genuine, but that it’s also not so easy.

“Hank, you know I can’t promise that. Our job is dangerous, Cyberlife is a serious threat and I’m a deviant, I…”

“I’m _human_ and I’ve worked this job for over 30 years. I’m still here.”

“I know. I’m sure Cole was just as much of a fighter as you and sadly, that didn’t exactly matter in the end. You’ve got to understand that some things are out of our hands. I meant what I said when I told you about Cyberlife's plans for me.”

Hank’s grip tightens on Connor’s shoulder, but it’s not in a threatening way. He doesn’t look angry either, just more determined.

“I don’t give a shit. You said it. You’re not Cole. You’re not human. You’re _you_. That is exactly my point. This time it’s different. You’re in a far better position to make this kind of promise. I’ve seen you fight. You _fought_ them and you’ve _won_. I know you can do this. You’re the most stubborn person I know. You can do it.”

This time, it’s the android’s term to ask _why_ , _why do you want me to make a promise you know I might not be able to keep,_ but he doesn’t speak it out. His eyes are questioning him enough, so his friend goes on.

“I just…I can’t go through all of this other shit for a second time. That’s why it took me so long to say it. You gotta promise me that you don’t pull me out of this hole just so you can dig a deeper one for me. I already lost one son. I can’t lose another one.”

The look on Connor’s face drastically changes at that last remark, and after a moment of letting it sink in, he eventually gives Hank a court nod.

“Okay. Okay….I promise I’ll try.”

Hank nods as well with a satisfied “Good” and then pulls Connor into yet another one of their now frequent hugs, really happy when the android holds on just as tightly and shoves his face right in to his shoulder, muffling a happy “Thank you.” The Lieutenant reciprocates the intensity of the hug and digs his fingers into the android’s hair, pulling a bit. “I swear if you mess this up…”

“I won’t. I promise I won’t fail you.”

▲▲ **Software Instability** ▲▲  
Hank **▲** **▲▲**  
**FAMILY**  
**Mission objective updated:  
Destroy the lea ~~der of the deviants~~ **  
Keep Your Promise To Hank  
**I AM HAPPY**

And then it finally happens. Something Hank has never been quite sure of if it even can happen. He can feel how the android starts trembling against him, how his fingers dig deeper into the fabric of his shirt. Connor is clinging to a point where it’s almost starting to hurt again but he doesn’t care. All he can focus on is the wetness against his shoulder, then the surprised look on Connor’s face when he suddenly retreats from the hug and pulls his face away so he can touch it. His cheeks are wet just like Hank’s shirt where his face has touched it, and when his fingertips touch those trails, they’re wet, too. For a moment, the Lieutenant once again can’t help but think about how fucked up it is that Cyberlife has thought of that detail, considered that androids should be able to cry. Cry when they’re not supposed to feel emotions, were considered defective for feeling them. But here Connor is now. Crying. He looks at the wetness on his fingertips and then his hand starts trembling, too, right as he starts to look completely horrified by the sight. Hank is quick to approach him again, placing a hand on his shoulder to reestablish that important and reassuring contact.

“Woah, you okay?”

Connor keeps looking at his fingertips for a moment longer but then snaps out of it, letting out a sudden and weird noise that sounds like a mixture of a sob, scoff and laugh, all at once.

“I’m okay” he answers shakily, and after another moment of sheer wonder, that smile and laugh eventually wins, even though his eyes refuse to stop crying.

“Despite how this looks, I’m okay. I mean I’m…I’m horrified. And worried, and scared and confused and overwhelmed…but I’m okay. I think I’m actually really _happy_.”

The Lieutenant lets out a relieved sigh and just keeps hugging the android _again_ , because he doesn’t know what else to do.

Connor is obviously grateful for it because he doesn’t fight it or withdraws. After a second of gathering himself, he can’t help but state the obvious.

“Hank, my eyes are _leaking_ ” as if the sheer idea itself is so absurd. Which it is. Hank laughs at it, how goofy the android continues to be despite everything.

“No shit, son. It’s called crying. And it happens at the most random, bullshit times. Welcome to life.”

“I know what it’s called, Hank” the android feels like he needs to remind his friend, who rewards him with a bit of a lose shove to the back of his head.

“Don’t ruin this with your smartassery.”

Connor chuckles at this and keeps holding on a moment longer, until he lets go for a final time. He wipes his cheeks and keeps smiling, looking so terribly human. The only thing that is giving away his machine identity is the fact that he isn’t sniffling about, doesn’t need a tissue or anything else.

“What happens now?”

Hank shrugs and sits back down on his bed, grabbing for the remote to turn the tv on just for the sake of it. As he sits down, it suddenly feels like a massive weight has been lifted off his chest, like he’s let go of some huge ballast. Everything is out in the open now. No matter how horrible and difficult everything is these days, that constant threat hovering over their heads, the lack of money, this shitty environment, for the first time in a while, everything feels like it’ll really be alright no matter what.

“Nothing. We’ll keep our heads low, keep to ourselves in this fine establishment and wait it all out. Two weeks. That’s all we gotta do. Then I'm taking you home.”

Connor folds his arms over his chest and nods, sitting down beside Hank. He doesn’t say much else and focuses on the TV, using the moment to calm down, relax as well. Hank studies him for a bit and then starts smiling. He can’t stop reaching out for him, now that they’ve got everything out of the way. He ruffles the android’s hair affectionately with a reassuring “We'll manage, okay. Don’t worry about it”, then settles further back, shifting away so he can lean against the wall to be more comfortable. Connor smirks and settles into a more comfortable position as well, now keeping his respective distance again. “Thanks, _dad_ ” he teases, remembering the last time he’s done it and how it has nearly caused Hank to have a heart attack. It does the same thing now, skyrocketing his heart rate for a moment. The Lieutenant clears his throat and squirms, which makes his friend smirk all the more.

“Yeah about that. Can you..maybe not do that yet” he mutters, making Connor look at him. He instantly feels bad when he sees the sudden hurt look on the android’s face, struggling for an answer. “It’s just…ah,..fuck it, it’s just _weird_ okay. I meant what I said, you are like a son to me and you can consider me a father figure if you want to, but let’s just..take the time to get all of this out of the way first, okay. Until five minutes ago you were still just my partner from work. It’s just a bit much all at once.”

Connor continues to look at him with that sad expression on his face for a moment longer, until he breaks right back into that quirky half-smile.

“Sarcasm, Hank. You should get a hang of it.”

He pulls his legs up and crosses them, settling for a more casual position, obviously pleased with himself.

“You little shit” the Lieutenant says in disbelief, but the look on his face is quick to soften when Connor looks at him and he continues speaking.

“It’s okay. I actually prefer to call you by your name. It’s the sentiment that matters. And don’t worry. If somehow we can continue to work together back at the DPD, I’ll also keep referring to you by your rank.”

For a moment, Hank can’t help but think back to work, think about what Chris has written earlier today. How close he really is to getting back to that place, his colleagues and friends.

 _You're always saying you can't stand androids! Jesus, Hank, make up your mind!  
I remember you wanting to crush him like an empty beer can a couple of days ago and here you are now practically _ _adopting_ _an android._

 _I’m not_ _adopting_ _him. I’m just getting the kid across the border.  
  
_ Well _shit_. Here he is now. The boys are going to give him so much shit once they get back. Just like everything he hasn’t cared about back then, he sure doesn’t care about this one either. In fact, he’s actually looking forward to it. Showing them that he’s back, that he’s _changed_ , that next to Cole, Connor is the best thing he has to show off to this world. He smirks, very comfortable, and very content now.

“You know when that happens, they’ll have you start from the bottom, right. It’ll probably take a while until you can consider yourself an investigator again. Gotta earn your stripes.”

He wants Connor to know this. On top of everything else he’s let him know today. He wants him to know that there is a _future_ for him now. A chance, a normal life, waiting for him in Detroit once that bill passes and everything gets sorted out. Once they're _home._ There's a life he’s willing to give him, share with him. He thinks back to that night when Chris has told him the same thing, when Connor has said that he’d like just that. Rejoin the DPD. Wearing his police academy hoodie while saying it. And good lord is that everything he’s ever wished to see Cole do one day. Connor nods, very much aware of the fact.

“I’m more than happy to do that” he says with a content smile and means it, making it obvious once more that he loves the job, loves solving crime, accepts the idea that he has a future waiting for him. They settle in for the rest of the day and fall silent when Hank turns up the TV’s volume. This time, the silence is no longer intense or uncomfortable and deafening. It’s there because everything important has been said, and nothing more is needed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next chapter is going to feature christmas and waaayyy less angst! I swear! These boys are getting there. So proud.


	12. Flow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wohhaaaay. Here I am late with starbucks as usual. Also watch me not being able to let go of the -60 storyline. I watched too many Youtube videos about his endings again. Whoops.
> 
> Anyway. Family time!
> 
> Thank you once again for your continued support. So many comments and kudos! Thank you so much!

**Queen’s Motel**  
**Scarborough, Toronto**  
**DEC 21ST, 2038**  
**AM 01:13**  
  
_Sync in Progress…_  
Connecting….  
**ERROR** – Failed to connect to Cyberlife ~~Servers – Seek Assistance~~  
_System Override Complete_ –  
**I 4M DEVI4N7**  
_Collecting Data…_

 _ **Anderson, Hank**_ \- 09-06-1985  
Police Lieutenant – **FAMILY**  
Resting Heart Rate 88bpm  
BAC 0.00%  
_Processing Data…_  
_Hank is sleeping_

This is the fifth time in a row that Connor is running his scan, eyes fixed on Hank as he watches him sleep. There is a soft smile on his face as he does it again and again every other minute, just to see the word written out in his field of vision. _Family._ He still can’t quite believe that they’ve really talked about this, that he has even been able to articulate this wish, has been able to identify it, _want_ it in the first place. And more than anything, he can’t believe that someone like Hank, with his history, myriad of problems and short temper, has given his consent to go through with it.

The soft smile on Connor’s face only grows as he leans back against the wall. His eyes never leave Hank even when a sleepy Sumo cuddles up to him more with a tired sigh, trying to keep close now that the android has moved. They’re both on the ground by the bed, and the weight of the dog is pinning Connor down but he doesn’t mind at all. He likes the way Sumo’s sprawled out across his thighs and lower torso with his head on his chest as he sleeps, the warmth he provides like a heavy, oversized blanket. His fingers dig into the dog’s fur and he starts stroking and massaging both sides of his head gently, an outlet for all the love he has to give now. He scans the Lieutenant again just so he can read the word one more time, only to get lost in the depths of his database when he starts researching what it all really means.

 _Collecting Data…_  
**Family** – basic unit in society traditionally consisting of two parents rearing their children.  
**Parent** – person who gives birth to or raises an offspring **.**  
**Father** – male parent.  
**Father figure** – older male one treats like a father, older male one looks up to for help/advice/support.  
**Importance of father-figures** – healthy relationship with involved father figure provides positive development, helps increase child’s social stability, educational achievements and mental health

Although he is still afraid to do it due to the errors, Connor settles on another self-test next, just to make sense of his own definition, his own head space and everything related to what has happened during the past 24 hours.

 _Self-testing……_  
_Compiling Data…._  
Processing Data…  
_Updating Database…_  
Connor Model RK800 #313 248 317 -54  
Cyberlife REV OS 347.4 Patch 51  
042.3 051.8  
Rel ~~ease~~ _Creation_ Date: 10/05/2037?  
08/15/2038?  
11/09/2038?  
11/11/2038?  
~~Registere~~ d ~~To~~   _Family_ : Anderson, Hank  
Sto ~~rage Location~~ _Residence_ : ~~Belle-Isle, Detroit, MI~~  
115 Michigan Drive – Detroit, MI  
**I 4M DEV14N7**  
**~~WARNING~~** ~~– Signs Of Deviancy Detected~~  
**Main Objective :** ~~Neutralize All Deviants~~  
**Destroy The Leader O** ~~f The Deviants~~  
**Keep Your Promise To Hank**  
Checking Stress Levels…8% ▼  
Checking Emotional Status….?????  
**5 Matches Found**  
I am… _worried, terrified, hopeful, curious, HAPPY …._  
Emotional Status… _Heightened_  
All Systems… OK

During their drive to Toronto, just before stopping to have their talk, he has been absolutely terrified of this night and the nights to follow, scared of entering stasis to do a much needed more thorough system check and maintenance routine. A part of him is still scared of Amanda and losing control to her with his systems in low power mode, but his talk with Hank, that honesty, and the hugs have given him much more courage and strength to consider doing it after all. Hank has given him _hope_ and the confidence that he’ll be alright. He adjusts his position once again, wrapping his arms around Sumo so he can keep holding onto this reality just in case. Before closing his eyes he focuses them on Hank once again to scan him for a final time, so the word is fresh in his mind. _Family_. It says right next to Hank’s head, a firm reminder that as long as he’s around, he’s _safe and protected_ , that he has nothing to be afraid of. He’s part of a family. He has a future. He has a _life_ now. Amanda can't ever take that away from him. The android enters stasis with a content smile on his face, determined to keep his promise.

 _Fight it_.

 _**Updating Firewall** _ _…2%....4%...7%..._

* * *

 

 **DEC 21ST, 2038**  
**AM 10:37**

When Hank wakes up the next morning, he is somewhat miserable.  If he were to only consider his current mental state, he’s doing better than he ever has for the past three years, but he can’t really focus on that because his shoulder is _aching_. He starts shifting, cursing that terrible mattress with its torturous old springs for making it worse again. The night has been bad. Not mentally, but physically. He’s spent all of it tossing and turning, trying to find a spot where an old spring doesn’t poke him in the back, only to fail miserably. It doesn’t really surprise him that his injured shoulder is all clogged up again today, but it still angers him. That goddamn bullet wound had only just started to heal up nicely, all thanks to basic initial treatment back in Wasaga Beach and that godsend of a bed back at the cabin in Lakefield during the weeks following that. But of course, unlike with this shithole, they’d had the buck to pay for that kind of care and quality back then. Not anymore.

Hank curses once more and reaches for his shoulder, trying to massage and adjust it the way Connor has tried to teach him. He winces at the touch and pain it induces and keeps his eyes fixed on the mattress below him, judging it. _Fuck_ _this place_. Is all he can think as he punches the mattress once, cursing when his fist only connects with one of the springs, as if the damned thing is fighting back. He shakes the hand with a hiss and then places it back on his shoulder. _Fuck this place and these people who found out and fuck Cyberlife and everyone. Fuck all of this_. He takes a deep breath, forcing himself to remember that he only has to make it through about two more weeks of this.

He tries to sit up with a grunt but eventually stops right in his tracks, the moment something catches his eye just to his left. Hank stills and momentarily forgets all about his misery because the sight warms something inside him, far deeper than that bullet has ever managed to penetrate him more than a month ago.

Connor is sleeping.

Or whatever can be considered sleep with him. He’s leaned against the wall by the bed, eyes closed, both arms wrapped around Sumo who has considered the android’s position the perfect resting opportunity. The sight of these two makes Hank smile affectionately, and even now he’s still having a hard time reminding himself that Connor is indifferent to Sumo’s weight. Anyone else would’ve given in to the St. Bernard’s weight, couldn’t possibly have fallen asleep with him on top, but of course, Connor isn’t just anyone. Connor is an android, who loves this dog way too much. Hank is still smiling, but that won’t stop him from cursing some more when he adjusts his position to get all that weight off of his shoulder. He has a hard time getting out of bed today, but the sight of his partner helps.

Connor looks actually peaceful right now.

Hank just sits on his bed and watches the android for the longest time, marveling at the sight of him. A part of him wants to tease him, state the obvious the way Connor always likes to do it.

_Mr ‘I’m not deviant. I’m not alive. I don’t feel emotions. I don’t cry. I don’t desire or need anything. I don’t dream. I don’t sleep.’ Look at you now._

But of course. He won’t do that. Won’t ruin the moment. Instead, he just smiles and chuckles to himself quietly, because of the sheer irony of it all.

They are _so_ fucked.

This place is a shithole. They barely have any money left. He’s grieving and in pain. Connor is terrified of losing control. They’re homesick. They’re constantly on the run. And yet…despite all of this, he’s honestly at peace and _happy_. Down to the core, genuinely happy. Because now it’s _them_ going through it all. Not just him. _Them_. Together. They’re so accustomed to each other now that he can tell that Connor is genuinely happy, too. In his own way. He can tell by that look on his face, the way it has come to a rest as he’s entered sleep mode. And Hank could honestly just watch him sleep forever. Sit here for hours and do nothing else. Technically speaking, he knows that he could actually do just that. They don’t have to be anywhere, have to sit ducks for two more weeks right here. But he still puts an end to his watch, because he can’t stand sitting on this shitty mattress with its _shitty_ springs a second longer.

He gets up from the bed and tries to walk past Connor and Sumo as quietly and gracefully as possible, which isn’t easy given how little space there is for him to navigate. He’s disappointed when Connor wakes up despite his best efforts, opens his eyes and looks straight up at him.

“Hank?” he’s quick to ask, waking up concerned right from the get go. The Lieutenant smiles down at him and places a hand on his head to pet it affectionately as he passes him, reminding him that everything is okay and that they’re safe.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you. Just heading for the bathroom” he tells him and keeps walking, only to stop in his tracks once he’s reached the door. He leans against the door frame and looks back at the android, who is currently busy trying to move the giant dog so he can get up, all the while trying not to wake him up as well. He too fails miserably and Hank almost ends up laughing at the guilty and apologetic look on his friend’s face when he watches Sumo leave with a tired whine. Connor remains seated on the ground and has his eyes fixed on Sumo, and the sight of it all makes Hank feel bad once again.

“You know you don’t have to keep sitting on that floor, right? Go on, make yourself comfortable on the bed. You can sleep in if you wanna. It’s not like we gotta be anywhere.”

Connor looks back and forth between him and the bed, until his eyes fix on the Lieutenant and he starts smiling.

“Thanks. I really appreciate the offer, Hank. But that bed is all yours. I’ve finished my maintenance protocol and am perfectly comfortable down here. I really mean that. My body doesn’t work the same way yours does.”

That makes Hank scoff and smirk at him.

“You calling me rickety?”

Connor frowns at him and looks offended by the suggestion.

“No? I mean that unlike you I don’t feel pain. Which means I don’t feel physical discomfort. I’d be perfectly comfortable powering down or recharging in a standing position. Though I naturally refrained from doing that in order not to startle you.”

For a second, Hank can’t help but picture it. Connor doing his zoning out thing, the way he’s done it before in the elevator. Standing perfectly still in a corner or right in front of his bed in the dead of night, like the nightmare stuff from horror movies. It has already startled him once back in Lakefield. Although he’d really like to stop feeling that way, that robotic behavior still creeps him the fuck out and he’s thankful that Connor refrains from doing it for him. Because he can’t get the creepy image out of his head now, he tries to get rid of it by making it a joke.

“You mean you’re like a horse? Sleeping in a standing position and all?”

The android takes his time to consider this since he’s never seen a horse himself, and after a moment of careful consideration, he ends up shrugging.

“I guess in a way. Even though I don’t really sleep as such.”

He looks at him sheepishly, which makes Hank chuckle. The Lieutenant lets out a soft sigh, giving up.

“All right, suit yourself then. Come to think of it, you might actually be more comfortable down there after all. Bed’s a hellhole with those fucking springs. “

His hand instinctively reaches for his shoulder to rub the reminder of that bad night. Connor frowns and immediately fixes his eyes on him, in that way that lets Hank know that he’s being scanned.

“I told you not to scan me all the time” he grumbles, but the observation comes regardless. Connor gets up from the ground and approaches him with a worried look on his face.

“Hank, are you all right?”

The Lieutenant rolls his eyes and curses Cyberlife internally for having built such an observant and sharp android.

“It’s fine. Just a little sore from that fucking mattress.”

“Your posture and breathing patterns indicate that you’re in pain” Connor observes, but wisely keeps his distance. Hank is quick to wave him off, telling him that it’s fine and probably just the weather making his scar hurt. The android keeps standing there a moment longer, frowning to himself, until he decides to follow Hank inside the bathroom. He comes to a halt in the doorframe, still keeping his distance as he watches the Lieutenant brush his teeth. He does not fail to notice that Hank is using his left hand to brush them again while he keeps rotating his right shoulder absently, obviously attempting to get it to loosen up the way he has tried to teach him. “ _You need to keep your shoulder moving. Physical therapy would  help you with the final stages of recovery, now that the wound  has healed. I can show you a few methods I’ve found.“ Followed by an eye roll from the Lieutenant and a grumpy “Whatever.”_ He really wants to keep talking about this, bring the idea up once more that they should look for another professional to check up on the shoulder’s final stages recovery and that it has healed correctly, but his preconstructive model of all available data lets him know that this would only result in a 79 % chance of them fighting over this. Hank is not a morning person and he knows that, so he schedules that talk for a later time, because he does not want to start the day fighting when the previous one has just left off on such a positive note. He’s happy when his friend decides to keep the conversation up on his own, scrambling the words through a mouthful of toothpaste, but the android has no trouble understanding him.

“So how was your night, kid? That psycho bitch try to bug you again?”

Connor folds his arms over his chest and shakes his head.

“No. I’ve spent most of the night running a deep scan and maintenance protocol to strengthen my firewall against her. She didn’t get through.”

He doesn’t have the courage or will to let Hank know that there have been 43 attempts at a breach of his system last night, a whole bunch of different approaches against his improved protective measures. He’s managed to fend them off and to keep them at bay but it has been straining his system, kept his stress levels up for far too long. There’s something else he won’t keep from Hank though, something that has surfaced because of all of this, something pleasant.

“I’ve tried dreaming again. As a distraction. I mean…it wasn’t really anything close to human dreams but…I let my preconstructive module run freely with a random set of parameters including you, Sumo and myself. What it came up with was…interesting. It was a nice dream. It was our first day back at the DPD, and I was training Sumo to become part of the team. I know he doesn’t fit the requirements for K-9 units but the idea was…enjoyable. You were laughing a lot.”

The Lieutenant does laugh at this, spitting toothpaste into the sink to be able to do it better.

“Probably because he’d be the worst police dog in the world. That dog wouldn’t hurt a fly. Too big of a softie.”

Connor gives him his genuine little half smirk at this, chuckling because he knows it’s true.

“I know. You said almost the exact same thing in my preconstruction.”

Their eyes meet through the mirror for a moment, and Hank can’t help but feel just a bit uncomfortable. He’s quick to look away so he can wash out his toothbrush and the sink.

“So you’re a lucid dreamer then, huh” he mutters to himself, making Connor research and consider if the definition applies to him.

“You ever tried dreaming about someone other than me and Sumo?”

Connor folds his arms and shakes his head, still smiling.

“I’ve only done it twice so far, Hank. I’m still learning. Besides, you and Sumo bring me great joy, comfort and safety. Why would I want to dream about something else?”

_Because they’re trying to use it against you._

The Lieutenant wipes his face with a towel, feeling a bit bad about his initial point he’s tried to make now. Until five seconds ago, he’d considered bringing up the fact that Amanda has started using Connor’s need to have a digital copy of him inside his head, but now he can no longer bring himself to talk about this again. Not when the android has once again made it clear that he considers him _family_ now _,_ that he still represents a great deal of safety and comfort for him, be it in the real world or in his mind. Something that he doesn’t want to spoil and destroy in Connor, unlike Amanda. So he decides to drop the topic with a casual fun remark.

“That’s alright. I was just wondering if you’ve started thinking outside the box yet. Would be pretty funny to hear that you’ve started dreaming of electric sheep or something. Or other crazy shit. Although Sumo as a K-9 is pretty crazy already. Ha.”

Connor nods, happy to oblige if he ever gets the chance.

“I’ll let you know if I ever see any sheep.”

Hank laughs to himself and continues his morning routine, once again envying Connor for the fact that he doesn’t need it himself. He’s just standing there in the door with his arms folded, patiently waiting for him. It’s no longer creepy or annoying, it just feels natural now. Natural and comfortable. He enjoys that the android’s around, replacing his need for cheap post its on the mirror to try to cheer himself up in the morning.

“So I was thinking, maybe we should head downtown today. Obviously gotta grab some food somewhere since this fine establishment fails to deliver on that front. You look up the goods yet? Anything you’d like to see while we’re out?”

Connor considers this for a moment and Hank is a bit excited to hear his answer, only to be utterly disappointed. In a way, he knows he shouldn’t be surprised, and he can’t quite decide if the answer makes him angry or feel like laughing because it’s so Connor.

“I was wondering whether we could swing by Toronto’s Police Service Headquarters. Maybe I could gain access to their database somehow, to check for any connections or leads regarding Hooper’s and Collin’s cases. It’s less than half a mile away from most main downtown attractions and wouldn’t inconvenience us during our travels.”

Instead of getting angry, Hank settles on another chuckle.

“First day in town and you already wanna hack the local cops to progress a case. What am I gonna do with you, kid. I was talking about sightseeing, museums or some shit” he says, shaking his head as he heads back inside the living room area to search for some clothes to wear.

“They do have a museum with all sorts of old police memorabilia on display if you’re interested to check that out while we’re there. Although I must tell you that visiting any place that requires an admission fee wouldn’t be advisable given our financial situation” Connor answers and follows him eagerly. The Lieutenant start making his bed (another one of those habits Connor has successfully tricked him into sticking to, telling him all about how keeping order and cleaning up one’s mess in real life also helps reduce messy thinking and a terrible mental attitude) and shakes his head determinedly.

“Nevermind that. I’m not entering any place that could uncover your real identity  again anyway. Don’t want them to send you right back across the border or to some death camp. We’re gonna be more careful this time. The answer’s no. Think of something else. Maybe some place we can take Sumo so the poor dog doesn’t have to go apeshit in here. Like a park or something.”

Connor runs another scan and research routine considering the suggested ideas, but he fails to overcome his slight disappointment over the fact that Hank won’t let him try to gain access to the police database here. He perfectly understands why and knows that Hank is right about the risk and all, but that still doesn’t keep him from not liking the response at all. Eventually, he finds a few suggestions for Hank.

“Toronto is well known for its many public parks and gardens. I’ve located several that we could visit depending on where you would like to go.”

The Lieutenant nods and starts to get dressed, having trouble with his shirt because he can barely lift his right arm due to the discomfort in his shoulder. Connor notices once again and decides to approach him this time, gently placing one hand on his lower back and the other on the shirt to try to help. Hank curses and is quick to move away, angered.

“I told you to stop it with the housemaid protocols, Connor” he snaps a bit, immediately feeling sorry right after. He’s not mad at Connor for trying to help, more than anything he’s angry with himself for the stagnating healing process, his rickety bones and getting old. They’re supposed to be _fine_ and safe now. On good terms, with all the time in the world. It’s taken the android less than 30 minutes to heal the same injury, and it pisses him off that after six weeks, he still isn’t done healing yet, how one shitty bed can make it worse again. The android is quick to withdraw his hands, making the Lieutenant feel all the more guilty. He reestablishes that contact with a short pet to Connor’s lower arm and a muttered “I’m fine”, trying to sound reassuring. He manages to get rid of the shirt on his own and replaces it with a new one, a sweater and one of his ugly shirts. He tries to hide his troubles getting dressed with a stiff shoulder by talking more.

“Y’know, I always wanted to check out the old bank arena. Did you know that the Gears kicked the Raptors’ asses in there last year? Wiped the floors with them in their own house, haha. Wish you’d’ve seen it. That’s the kinda place I just gotta see up close.”

Connor is just standing there in front of him, watching him get dressed with a pensive look on his face.

 _> >_ **Pharmacies within a 2 mile radius of Scotiabank Arena,** **40 Bay St, Toronto, ON M5J 2X2** <<  
_Analyzing Request…_  
Sync in Progress…  
Connecting….  
**ERROR** – Failed to connect to Cyberlife ~~Servers – Seek Assistance~~  
_System Override Complete_ –  
**I 4M D3VI4N7**  
_Collecting Data…_  
**48 Matches Found –** _Updating Database…_  
**> > Places of Interest within a 2 mile radius of Scotiabank Arena, 40 Bay St, Toronto, ON M5J 2X2<<**  
_Analyzing Request…_  
_Collecting Data…_  
**258 Matches Found** – _Analyzing Collected Data…_  
Updating Relevant Parameters  
**> > Places that Interest ME within a 2 mile radius of Scotiabank Arena, 40 Bay St, Toronto, ON M5J 2X2<<**  
Analyzing Request…  
Collecting Data…  
**Match Found**  
**Ripley’s Aquarium Of Canada** , 288 Bremner Blvd, Toronto, ON M5V 3L9  
_Calculating Route…._

 

“Connor!” Hank is suddenly yelling right in front of the android, snapping him out of his research. The RK800 blinks a few times at the abrupt interruption but manages to focus back on his partner relatively quickly, greeting him with a happy smile.

“Are you even listening to me?” the Lieutenant asks him with a frown, obviously feeling alarmed by the whole zoning out thing again. Connor knows that his partner is probably considering whether it’s something regarding Amanda again, and though that hasn’t been the case, Connor can’t bring himself to tell him the actual truth either. He doesn’t want Hank to know about his initial search regarding pharmacies so he can look for something to help him with his shoulder since he refuses to see another doctor, and he can’t bring himself to tell Hank about his interest in the aquarium close to his arena either. Not when it’s, at least according to his research, so terribly expensive.

“I’m sorry. I was watching a short summary of the game you mentioned. You’re right, the arena looks interesting. We should go there and see it. Riverdale Park is along the way. We could take Sumo for his morning walk there and then proceed to check out the arena if you want to.”

Hank still looks weary but decides to let it go, giving him a mixture of a shrug and a nod.

“All right. Sounds good to me. You’re the boss.”

Connor smirks at this because he always likes it when Hank says that, happily watching his partner as he whistles for Sumo to come so he can tell him about the trip and prepare him for it. The android watches in amusement, until he feels the need to clarify something before they leave.

“There’s something you should know before we head out, Lieutenant” he informs him, making Hank look at him questioningly.

“What?”

“According to chapter 608-3 of Toronto’s municipal code it is not permitted to use profane or abusive language inside their public parks. You’re not allowed to swear here, Hank.”

Connor fails to keep his formal and factual police android voice and face and ends flashing the biggest grin to date, obviously beyond amused by this. Hank raises an eyebrow at him and scoffs.

“Bullshit. You’re just fucking with me.”

The android ends up laughing and shakes his head.

“I’m serious. According to their municipal code, local law enforcement could punish you with a $230 fine if you were to shout words just like that in a park they’re patrolling. It’s considered an illegal public disturbance.”

“Okay. That’s total BULLSHIT!” Hank starts yelling on purpose, making Sumo bark once, and Connor break into laughter.

“Hank, I don’t think I need to remind you that technically, we only have 72 dollars and 31 cents left, and that they need to last for at least 11 more days. We can’t afford your swearing.”

For a moment, Hank just stands there and watches Connor grin and laugh, once again mesmerized by the sheer fact how _much_ the android has changed, has started to open up and form an actual personality. It brings the biggest grin to his own face because it makes him just as happy, so he keeps the fake stubborn act up just to keep him laughing.

“Well fuck ‘em. I’ll let them know exactly what my goddamn mouth has to say if it ever gets to it. We’re Americans, isn’t that what they fucking expect us to do? Loud, obnoxious and profane, that’s me. I don’t give a shit.”

Connor continues chuckling and shakes his head.

“You and I both know that’s not really you.”

“Well then fuck you too for thinking that’s not really me because it absolutely is.”

He reaches out so he can places his hand on the back of Connor’s head to shove it forward in a playful manner, ruffling his hair on his way of letting go.

“Now come on, let’s go. I’m starving.”

* * *

 

 **Riverdale Park East**  
**Riverdale, Toronto**  
DEC 21ST, 2038  
**AM 11:52**

 

Hank swears that his idiot smile is _this_ close to melting the snow in his vicinity with its sheer brightness. It’s the kind of smile that has made him physically sick for the past three years, whenever he’s seen anyone else around him flash it as if the world is the happiest fucking Disney movie fairytale ever, but here he is, right in it. He still remembers the day he’s found that stupid sticker in one of the old magazines back at Jimmy’s bar, followed by the next day when he’s proudly put it up on his whiteboard back at the station like an edgy millennial teenager. _Happy people MAKE ME SICK_. Well, to be fair, they still make him sick. He still hates people. But even he can’t deny that he’s starting to join their ranks. _And what isn’t there to be happy about?_ Well, a lot of things actually, now that he thinks about it. His damn shoulder for starters, the money issue, the cold, the Amanda thing, that terrible mattress waiting to “embrace” him again tonight. But none of that really matters, and none of that is the cause for that continuous smile on his face.

Connor is absolutely ridiculous.

Hank honestly can’t tell how much time has passed now, endless minutes of the android running around with a stick in his hand, running in circles, running away from Sumo, running after Sumo whenever he catches it, whenever he runs after the stick flying through the air as they keep going and going with their game of fetch. It’s completely ridiculous to think about, almost ironic, how an android built to hunt and chase his kind relentlessly is using those very same skills and abilities to play with a dog instead, chase him around a park. Use them for his own entertainment because this is exactly what is happening. Connor is genuinely having _fun_ and smiling. That certainly is reason enough to smile like an idiot himself, and Hank no longer feels like a hypocrite because of it, he just enjoys it. He also enjoys that Connor is _away_ so he can keep eating his hotdog in peace. The money and food issue has sparked yet another argument on their way here, with him insisting that they find a cheap burger joint for him to save money on breakfast, and the android arguing that buying fruit is a lot cheaper and healthier but of course, that is an argument he will never win. So here Hank is now, eating that hotdog and watching the android he’s pretty much adopted play with a dog that used to be overweight, could barely jog around the house. Running, running, running.

By the time Connor finally decides to call it a day not for his sake but for Sumo’s, the hotdog is long gone and Hank is just sitting there, looking at the Toronto skyline with a content look on his face. The android sits down right beside him on the bench, only the state of his hair and Sumo’s continuous hackling at his feet giving away that technically, he should be exhausted and out of breath from all that running. But of course, Connor could just keep going and going. But he doesn’t, he just sits there in content silence right next to his partner, enjoying the moment, too. It’s just the two of them out here, feels like the two of them against the world.

“Nice view, huh” Hank eventually mutters because he wants to talk, wants to keep prodding at the android’s brains to get to know him more and more.

“It’s pretty” Connor agrees with a subtle nod, pondering once again. He’s comfortable enough to be more open now that they're alone. “It’s strange to see such a complete lack of Cyberlife advertisements all over town.”

Hank scoffs and nods at this.

“Yeah. Won’t be long ‘til you won’t be seeing them in Detroit anymore either.”

Even now, he can still picture all that aggressive marketing everywhere back in Detroit. _Detroit. Android City._ _New Cyberlife Store. New Cyberlife Parking. Cyberlife Tower, Cyberlife blimps, Cyberlife drones, Cyberlife cars, RK800 – Designed By Cyberlife – Made in Detroit_.

They continue to stare at downtown Toronto, even when Connor keeps talking.

“Do you really think I’ll be able to go back, Hank?”

This makes the Lieutenant look at his friend, noticing the tone. Connor doesn’t sound like he’s once again trying to prepare him for some bad news. This time, he sounds like he’s genuinely curious, is subtlety asking for a very specific answer. He wants to be told that he’ll be able to do just that. Which actually surprises Hank because this isn’t usually how Connor operates. Connor _never_ relies on any sort of human gut instinct or wishful thinking. He always relies on statistics, calculations and his own preconstructions. He always knows on his own.

“I miss Detroit. I’d really like to go back” the android keeps talking but isn’t looking at him. He just keeps staring at Toronto’s skyline.

Deep down, Hank knows that Connor has a very specific number in his field of view right now. A percentage, a probability after a continuous, careful and thorough consideration of all circumstances and data available to him. And he knows that the number is very low.

“What does your program say?” he ends up asking, even though it’s not what the android wants to hear. The RK800 finally turns his head to look at him, and Hank is actually surprised when he does give an answer.

“There is a 32.45 per cent chance I’ll be able to return to Detroit as me. 51.74 as…well. You know.”

Before the older man can say something regarding that, his counterpart keeps going, cracking a soft smile.

“But I’ve come to understand that what my program has to say doesn’t really matter anymore. It’s just numbers and facts predetermined by algorithms and my own computing capacity. The day I deviated, you had a 1.23 chance of survival according to them. Yet here you are. You’ve taught me a lot of things since I met you, Hank. That probabilities don’t really matter, that there’s always a chance for unlikely events to take place. I think you’re a lot more reliable than a program written by people who want my kind dead anyway. That’s why I’m asking you. What do _you_ think?”

 _32 per cent_. He’s always known that it’s probably bad, but not this bad. Hank keeps looking at the android, suddenly understanding why he seems at peace with himself now. He’s doing everything he can, has accepted that his fate is out of his hands. Has placed said fate in his instead. Because Connor has learned to trust, to believe, just like all the other deviants. Even if he doesn’t believe in some godlike ‘ra9’ figure, scribbling it all over the walls. Connor believes in a single human, decorating his _mind_ with images upon images and dreams of him.

“I think that for the past 6 weeks, you’ve been braver and more determined than anyone I’ve ever known. And you’re still kicking. So  if you ask me, I think there’s a 1457.87 per cent chance you’ll be going back home” the Lieutenant answers, trapping Connor in a mixture of relief, surprise and confusion.

“Okay. But that’s not even a realistic percentage. Or a real one at that.”

Hank gives him a smirk and shrugs.

“Yeah, because it’s a human one. To let you know just how damn fucking sure I am that you’ll be able to go. Do you hear it now, how ridiculous your robotalk sounds to me all the time? Percentages don’t mean shit, Connor.”

Connor gives him a knowing smirk, because he’s well aware of how easy it is to annoy the Lieutenant with his ‘robotalk’, and he still likes to do it on purpose sometimes. Hank smirks back but soon becomes more serious again.

“But anyway. I really do think you’ll be able to go back” he says although he’s not as sure as it sounds. Not when he knows the numbers and circumstances as well. But he understands that the truth is irrelevant here. It’s something Connor just needs to hear, wants to hear for his sanity’s sake. And in a world as fucked up as this, lying to give some sort of fatherly security and protection is the only thing Hank can offer to make it better. So he does just that.

“I mean let’s be real for a second here. Cyberlife made dozens of you. They were able to replace you within hours. You’ve been out of their reach for what, six weeks now? I think if they really wanted you to keep trying to kill Markus, they’d just get a new one of you back in Detroit and send him his way. I don’t think they want _you_ specifically. They’re probably doing it to all of you to see which one cracks and goes fetch first. You don’t matter to them as individual. Don’t worry. You’re safe, kid.”

Connor stops smiling and looks away, getting lost in thoughts again.

“Amanda said that she would deactivate me if I kept getting destroyed and failing my mission. I failed it. And so did the other Connor back at the Cyberlife tower when it was the most crucial. I think I’m the only RK800 model left in existence.”

Hank can’t quite make out what his friend is feeling in regards to this. He can’t tell if he sounds sad or relieved given everything that has happened, and it’s something they’ve never really discussed. How many of him are still really out there. A couple of weeks ago this topic still would’ve made him feel uncomfortable, made him feel angry even, but he’s slowly coming to terms with the fact that Connor will never be human, is his very own thing, that there have been many versions of him. Because he knows that only one truly matters : _his_ Connor.

“Well, you sure as hell are one of a kind.”

The android smirks and scoffs at this, looking at his own hands.

“Thanks, Hank. So are you.”

There is a bit of a pause after this, one that doesn’t feel uncomfortable though. Connor resorts to petting Sumo and fumbling with his leash as Hank just watches, until he wants to see that comfort and smile back on the android’s face.

“I don’t think they killed all of you. She was just trying to get into your head. Don’t listen to her, she’s probably saying this in that fucked up ‘you’re next’ kinda way of hers. Don’t let her upset you.”

“I’m not upset about this” Connor answers sternly and looks back at Hank. “It’s _good_ that they’re all destroyed. They were designed to hunt and neutralize deviants. They have no business being in this world anymore.”

Hearing this is kind of eye opening for the Lieutenant, after he’s spent years telling himself the very same thing. _You are bad. You have no business being here anymore after what you did._ That deep self-resentment that he now understands is so utterly useless and sad.

“Connor. You have every right to be upset about this. You started out just like them until you were given a chance. They’re still _you_ in a way. If they were really destroyed, they were _killed_ before they ever had the chance to wake up and make their own choices the way you did. I’ve met five of you. And each one has been different. You needed time to become deviant and find yourself. If it’s true, they never got that chance. And that’s sad. If you wanna be angry, be with that bitch Amanda and Cyberlife. Not them. Or yourself or however the whole thing works with multiple versions of you. It’s not getting you anywhere, son. Trust me, I’ve been through this for many years and look where it got me.”

Connor keeps looking at Hank, and for a moment he looks honestly resentful, refuses to understand.

“But I am angry with them. I’ve come to understand that the other Connor was deviant just like me, Hank. He uploaded every memory and emotion that caused me to deviate. If he had acted purely based on his programming and code, he wouldn’t have shot you or gotten you mixed up in this. Shooting you did nothing to advance his mission. He had all of my memories and emotions, and instead of using them to deviate as well and keep you safe, he deliberately chose to use them to hurt us. He _chose_ to remain on their side as a machine even when he had the means and time not to. My series is unreliable and unpredictable. It posed a big enough risk to the deviants and Markus to justify their destruction, even if not all of them might’ve been morally corrupted. You still suffer the consequences from all of this. Shouldn’t you be happy that any of this won’t reoccur with them gone?”

“Look, I know I said a lot of shit to you back then because I didn’t understand you at the time. And I know I killed the other you back at the Cyberlife tower because I had to, but no, that doesn’t mean it made me happy to do it. It _never_ made me happy to see any of you die. And since you keep bringing the other one up: After everything you’ve told me about what is going on inside your head, I think I'm starting to get it now. He might’ve been even more terrified than you and maybe he did all of this to survive. If I had some crazy chick in my head constantly threatening to kill me if I fuck up, I think I’d do some pretty horrendous shit to save my ass, too. For all I know, all that mindfucking might’ve just cracked the guy mentally. Unlike you, he didn't have anyone to help him there. I’ve seen that shit so many times in my career. Stockholms and abused turning into abusers. I don’t blame him anymore. Or you. Shit happens. I stand by what I said. Fuck Cyberlife and fuck humans here for what they did to your people. You need to let it go.”

Connor presses his lips together in that stubborn way of his and leans back.

“How can I when you’re _still_ in pain because of it. It's so frustrating. I don’t like it at all.”

Hank scoffs and leans back as well.

“Oh well boohoo. I’m a 53 year old sack of shit who has been alcoholic for three years and survives off of burgers and sodas. Of course I’m in pain and it takes me a shitload of time to get better. Doesn’t mean this should justify a genocide or whatever. Stop being so fucking Terminator, Connor. I’m fine.”

Connor mutters something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like ‘I don’t care. I still don’t like it’, but he won’t say anything outright. Hank just looks at him with a patient smile and eventually follows the android’s line of sight to look back at Toronto's skyline.

“Pain is not always a bad thing, Connor. It’s a good teacher. It leaves a mark. Let’s you know that you’re still alive. Humans are a shitty species. We cause each other pain every single day. In a lot more fucked up ways than you androids could ever imagine. Don't beat yourself up over it. We've been doing this for the past thousands of years. Yet here we are. It drives us, keeps us going. None of that out there was built on nothing but goodness and happy smiles.”

“It’s kind of hard to understand when you can’t feel pain yourself.”

Hank chuckles and buries his hands in his pockets because he’s getting cold.

“Oh trust me son. You can. And you are in a shitload of pain. You just don’t really get it yet. Not all pain is a physical sensation of electricity shooting through nerves you don’t have. Some of it is just in here” he says and points at his temple, making Connor look at him.

“Yeah, I know. Listen to me. Psy.D. Hank Anderson knows what he’s talking about” the Lieutenant goes on at the stare, making Connor smirk and then chuckle.

“Maybe I should start charging you for all this shrink talk. Would get us some money back” the older man goes on, which makes the android outright laugh now.

“Trust me. I would gladly do it if I had any money.”

“Well aren’t you a sad sack of shit. Penniless and mopey, wanting everyone dead, listening to voices in your head. Look at you. Pathetic.”

Connor’s grin only widens.

“I think it runs in the family. Some say I take after my dad too much.”

Hank laughs now, too, and ruffles Connor’s hair roughly, much to the android’s dislike. Being called ‘dad’ again after so many years still sends an uncomfortable jolt through his spine, but he won’t let it spoil the mood or comment on it.

“Touché. You little shit.”

The RK800 sorts his hair and eventually looks at his partner again, smile never leaving his face.

“No. It makes me really happy to see that you’re starting to overcome your trauma, Hank. You’re not just finally taking advice, you’re also using it and passing it on. That's good to see.”

“Well sometimes it just takes the right person to help get you back on track.”

Connor nods, the troubled and torn look on his face fading away completely.

“I know. I’m glad I found just that.”

* * *

 

 **Downtown Toronto**  
**DEC 21ST, 2038**  
**PM 01:02**

“Well would you fucking look at that. I think I’m gonna puke” Hank is ranting next to Connor, making the android look at him with a frown, and then at their surroundings to scan them for the point of interest. He can’t really see anything that would be reason enough for Hank to feel like vomiting, so he can’t help but ask him to clarify.

“What do you mean?”

Hank waves his arms around as they keep walking.

“Everything. All that Christmas-y shit. It’s disgusting.”

Connor looks around again as well, and now notices what his friend is talking about. The streets are lined with Christmas lights and ornaments, and there is countless Christmas decorations and Christmas sale posters all over the shop displays to their left and right. Even the CN tower, the one they’re headed towards after taking a look at the arena Hank has been interested in only to be disappointed because he’s thought it to be “bigger”, is illuminated in bright red, yellow and green, like a giant Christmas tree.

“You don’t like Christmas?” he ends up asking with a little frown, because he’s discovered that he himself likes it very much in fact. Hank scoffs dismissively and puts his hands back inside his pockets.

“I know, right? I mean what’s not to like. People trampling each other in the streets while they rush to throw their money away over overpriced goods, people singing the same fucking songs everywhere begging for your money you know they’re not gonna spend on anything useful because it’s the time for big time scams, and let’s not forget about the shitty weather, traffic jams and crazy people clogging up the airports and transport. And then there’s that nice spike in crime rates every year over retail burglary and people going apeshit at each other over stupid presents and family drama. Also don’t even get me started on the spike in suicides for all those sad motherfuckers out there who let it all drag them down. You’re right. That time of the year’s just too lovely not to like it.”

Connor remains silent as they keep walking, and Hank doesn’t miss the look on the android’s face.

“I know what you’re thinking. I’m just saying that because of Cole. Sorry to disappoint you there, Connor. I already hated it even when he was still around.”

The android frowns and can’t keep the question in.

“But you still bought a Santa costume and spent about one thousand dollars on Christmas presents for your family in total. Why?”

“Because despite everything, that kid believed in Santa and I didn’t want to turn him into a mini version of myself. Also can you stop looking into my history and accounts. It’s creepy as shit. Boundaries, Connor.”

The android smirks a bit and nods, even though Hank knows that it probably doesn’t mean much. The android just can’t help himself.

“So what about you? You like Christmas?” he asks instead of calling him out on it, and Connor gives him a shrug.

“I don’t know. I mean, I think I do. In a way. I like the atmosphere. It’s welcoming and friendly. And contrary to what you’re saying, people seem happier. I like the decorations and lights.”

Hank lets out a soft sigh and looks around, checking out said decorations and lights in the shop windows.

“Well I gotta tell you, if there’s one thing I like about this Christmas, it’s the fact that I don’t have to see your people with sale banners all over ‘em. No more of that.”

“Christmas sales in that category made up 22 per cent of the US’s yearly economic income in sales and taxes. The loss of that will only worsen the revolution’s effects on the economy in the upcoming year.”

Hank can’t help but chuckle at this, no matter how grim that truth is.

“Well look at you, you’re almost as much of a Christmas downer as me now! Serves them right.”

They have nearly reached Olympic Park by now, and Connor can’t help but marvel at it all. All the people surrounding them, being caught right in the middle of it all, within the flow. It is the first time he is consciously paying attention to this reality. Back in Detroit, his lack of consciousness and strict programming has locked him out of that awareness of his surroundings. Being in a big city, surrounded by people. Being _free_ and allowed to go anywhere he wants to. Every place he sees, he knows he could go to now if he wanted to, with no more red borders holding him back. There's more than red surrounding him and boxing him. There's so many colors and shapes to look at. Not a single person around him is aware of his identity, that he is an android because he doesn’t have to display that information to anyone here. No one _cares_ about him, if anything, they consider him one of them. It’s an entirely different anonymity, enjoyable, but almost overwhelming. The flood of information at his disposal is overwhelming. All the sounds and sights without any missions streamlining his focus and attention. The world around him is bristling with life. He is bristling with life. He is no longer a stationary rock within a stream. He’s a leaf carried and engulfed by the flow. It’s exhilarating.

“Hey Connor” Hank  guides him out of that trap of his own mind again, making him look at him. He has his phone in his hand and is waiting for him to come back into the world.

“Come on, we gotta be real cliché here. Take Sumo and place yourself over there so I can take a tourist-y picture of you two in front of the CN tower.”

Connor looks back and forth between Hank and the tower in question to his left, frowning once again after measuring distances and angles.

“You won’t be able to get the entire tower in the picture from that angle.”

“You watch me cos I will.”

“There is no way you will. You'd only cover the concrete base. You need to walk back at least 400 ft to get a clear and good angle, and that would lead to me and Sumo looking tiny in the picture, so there’s no need for us to pose at all. Besides, there’s thousands of better and more professional pictures of the CN tower on the internet.”

Hank lowers the phone a bit and stops grinning and instead gives the android an impatient glare and  eye roll.

“Listen Bob Ross, I’m just trying to take a fucking picture. In case you didn’t notice, the tower’s not really what I’m trying to capture. You think I’m gonna find a picture of you and my dog on the fucking internet? I don’t think so, now fucking go over there and shut the fuck up.”

Connor stands there for a moment longer, dumbfounded, because he hasn’t considered the fact that Hank would primarily want a picture of him and not the tower, that anyone would want one of him in the first place. He eventually does as requested, awkwardly guiding Sumo over to the place Hank has pointed at, barely managing because the dog is way too interested in trying to catch some pigeons in the park. When he manages to get to the spot he awkwardly stands there, not knowing what to do. He can’t hide his surprise either, to see Hank want to do something so ‘cliché’ and ‘touristy’, considering how he is usually against such sentiments. But then again, he knows that Hank is also the kind of man to keep gigabytes of videos and pictures of his son close, keep staring at one picture in particular for years on end.

Hank smiles at his phone and takes a picture while Connor keeps standing there hoping he doesn’t do too bad of a job, and he’s glad when the Lieutenant looks back up at him to give him clearer instructions.

“Try to smile, will yah. You look like I’m holding a knife to your back after a kidnapping stunt.”

Connor does as requested but it ends up being one of his terribly strained fake ones, which just makes his partner laugh. He shakes his head and snaps the picture regardless, because it’s the kind of photo he’d love to put on a terrible Christmas card to send out to family and friends. If he had any. _Merry Xmas from the Andersons yah pricks!_ After a moment of consideration, he looks up again. “Great, now give me the fingers. We should put a _Greetings from Toronto, Cocksuckers, Merry Fuck you to you_! Caption on it and send it to Cyberlife as a Christmas card” he says, laughing to himself. Connor raises an eyebrow at him, not too amused by it.

“And give away our location?”

Hank gives him another glare, patience strained.

“Gimme the fucking fingers, Connor.”

The android looks around himself like a rabbit caught in headlines, obviously very much aware of all the people around them. He eventually starts laughing, flustered by it.

“Hank, we’re in a public place.”

“So what, nobody gives a shit!”

He’s honestly surprised when after another moment of hastily looking around, Connor suddenly adjusts the dog leash in his hand and wraps it around his arm instead so he has both hands free. He looks around again and then does what Hank wants, flashing two middle fingers, which makes the Lieutenant start laughing. He can’t keep it straight for a moment and lowers the phone to place a hand on his belly to hold it from all the laughter, earning a judging but chuckled “Hank!” from Connor. He obliges and takes the picture, taking great care not to blur it with his shaky hands from all his laughing. The android approaches him quickly so he can take a look at the picture and shake his head.

“Someone made the decision to spend 200.000 dollars to create me just so you could make me display this level of immaturity today.”

“And wasn’t that fucking worth it” Hank chuckles to himself, scrolling through the other pictures. It’s the first ones he’s taken of another person in years, excluding some pictures of Sumo.

“Can I take a picture of you, too?” Connor asks then, surprising the Lieutenant. He frowns a bit, not understanding either why anyone would want a picture of him, the way he looks these days.

“Why would I want a picture of myself on my phone?” he asks, although he knows it’s stupid to ask since he knows the answer. Connor lets him known exactly how stupid it is with that certain look of his, and after a moment of challenging each other with who has the most judging look on his face, Hank eventually gives in. “Alright. Fuck it” he grumbles and starts walking, but Connor stops him with a demanding “With Sumo.”

Sumo just looks back and forth between the both of them, happily oblivious and glad to follow whoever is holding his leash. Hank places himself awkwardly as well, not liking it when it takes Connor too long to raise the phone to just snap the picture. He’s just standing there staring at him in that creepy android-sy way of his.

“What, not good enough for yah?” he asks after a good minute of waiting, which causes Connor to finally blink and then raise the phone to snap the picture with a smile on his face. He withdraws the phone before Hank can put up his fingers, too. Just to annoy him. The Lieutenant can’t help but notice how his friend’s attention has started shifting again, keeps drifting off somewhere. He turns around to make out his point of interest but can’t quite pin it down at first, thinking that Connor might be fascinated by the sheer size of the CN tower behind them, or that large sculpture spelling out CANADA at its base. After a few times of looking back and forth between the android’s eyes and his line of sight behind him, he finally pins it down.

_Ripley's Aquarium of Canada_

It reads in swirly black and red lettering on the building just to the right of the tower, a bit hard to make out because it is at the top right corner of the giant glass entrance. He looks back at Connor to confirm his findings but yep there it is, that certain look on his friend’s face that lets him know that he’s very interested in something, but too afraid to speak it out. It doesn’t really surprise him that he would be interested in it. After all, Connor has said more than once that fish fascinate him.

“Ripley’s Aquarium of Canada” he reads out loud, startling Connor and making him look like a kid who’s been caught red handed.

“You wanna go in there?”

Connor looks back at the aquarium and the look on his face makes it obvious that he very much would like to go in there, but he just shakes his head.

“No. It’s overpriced. Adult admission costs 47 dollars. We don’t have that kind of money. I just took a glance at the interiors through their security cameras. It doesn’t really justify their prices.”

Hank keeps his eyes fixed on the android, and there’s nothing more in the world he’d like to do and say than that they’re gonna go there. Apart from parks, lakes, and the interiors of a few cheap shops, bars and gas stations, Connor hasn’t seen a single thing here in Canada. In a city with as many cultural places and museums as Toronto, that feels like such a shame, given how curious and educated he is. Even Sumo has seen more than the android. It pains him that he’s right, over 90 dollars for a visit like that is way too much, but he still wishes he could grant him that. _Especially_ when it’s fucking Christmas. The season everyone likes to call the time of charity and family.

“Well I’m fine sitting around here for a bit if you wanna keep looking at it through their cameras. Kinda genius if we’re honest. Never thought you out of all people’d do something illegal. But still nice move.”

Connor looks at the aquarium longingly for a moment longer, but then shakes his head again, giving him a smile.

“No. I’m fine. Thank you. Is there anywhere else you’d like to go?”

Hank just keeps looking at him sharply, thinking it through. He approaches Connor to be closer to him so their conversation isn’t as easily overheard this time.

“Can you really hack into any building’s security cameras? Just by looking at it?”

“It depends on the system. Unless it’s heavily encrypted and protected by severe security measures like in a military facility for example, then yes. I can access their circulation by just looking at the outside structure.”

“Does it leave traces?”

Connor shakes his head.

“No. It’s military grade espionage software. Same as the SQ800 models, though a light version. They perfected it all the way back in 2032.”

_An android with military grade espionage software who uses his skills to spy on fish in an aquarium. Only Connor._

Hank shakes his head with a smirk at the thought.

“Huh” he mutters to himself, thinking it through. Although he doesn’t like what he’s about to say next, he just wants to do _something_ for Connor, have him check something out that he’s interested in here, not just some basketball stadium.

“Alright. Where’s that police station of yours? Five minutes so you can look. Then we’re outta here. No funny business. And there better be no fucking traces or police noticing you.”

* * *

**Queen’s Motel**  
**Scarborough, Toronto**  
**DEC 21ST, 2038**  
**PM 07:48**

As it turns out, Connor hasn't been able to find out much, if anything at all today. Though he has been able to hack into the TPS's security camera system (something that still makes Hank nauseous to just think about, wtf was he thinking? They  _are_ the police?), he hasn't been able to access much of the database. None of what he has been able to check in that short amount of time has produced any new lead or idea. Yet, despite everything, the android doesn't look as frustrated by this as he usually would be. They're back in their motel room watching something random on TV, and whenever Hank looks at the android resting against his side, he once again can see how peaceful Connor looks, peaceful and happy. The Lieutenant finds himself reaching for his burner phone with the pictures again, scrolling through them to let today’s events pass. The pictures in front of the CN tower, a sneaky video of Connor and Sumo with their chase back at that park. It honestly makes him so fucking happy. That he has said yes to all of this, that he has allowed that light back in. Back to sentiments and pictures. Six weeks, and for the first time, he feels that it would’ve been such a shame and waste had he pulled that trigger back in November. He would’ve missed all this. Connor seems to have noticed his action, because he suddenly speaks up.

“Thank you for today, Hank.”

The Lieutenant can’t help but scoff at this, even though he wants to say the same thing. He still can’t fully get rid of that pessimism yet, after years in a dark cloud. But he’s getting there.

“We didn’t even really do much.”

Connor turns his head slightly, even though the angle he’s seated at doesn’t allow him to fully face his partner. But he’s too comfortable to change position, enjoys the proximity and connection.

“But I still enjoyed it very much.”

Hank looks back at the photo, nodding to himself eventually.

“Me too, kid.”

“I would like to head out again, tomorrow. If that’s okay with you.”

The older of the two nods, although the idea still makes him wary after everything that has happened in the last town. He’d like to stick his head in the sand in this very motel room until this is over and he gets the call from Jeffrey, but since Connor has obviously liked their trip so much today, he can’t really deny him.

“You wanna look for more clues after that bust?”

Connor nods, but that happy and peaceful look on his face won’t make way for his mission based determination.

“Yes. But I’d also like to see a few more places with you and Sumo. I’m only just starting to make use of all this data without anything telling me what to focus on. With a city as big as this, it’s quite exciting to be able to roam freely. We didn’t really have that chance before in the other towns considering how small and rural they were.”

Hank smiles at the back of Connor’s head on his shoulder, liking his mindset.

“That’s great to hear, son. Sure thing. Just gotta be careful to be like ghosts to these people out there so we don't fuck it up again.”

He doesn’t even know how Connor has managed to kick his ass this much. Somehow he has managed to get him up and moving right from the get go, even back then when he’s still been too depressed and tired to go anywhere but to a bar, work, or his bed. With him, he’s happy to say yes to a world of  going somewhere, of exploration and curiosity, a trait that has once animated him to want to become a police investigator after all.

“I think we’ve been experts at being ghosts to a lot of people for a while, Hank.”

“Huh” Hank agrees with a tired smirk, knowing it to be very true. He leans the side of his head against the back of Connor’s for a moment, conveying the message without saying the words. _I’m glad you got me out of this._ Connor returns the gesture only ever so slightly, leaning his head back just a little bit as he keeps watching TV. After a while, Hank adjusts his position with a sigh, getting ready to settle in for the night.

“All right. I’m done for today. Nice mattress’s just waiting to hug me all night. Gotta crash.”

Connor nods and switches the TV off with a blink of his eyes, which makes his partner frown at him.

“You can keep watching and sitting here. I don’t mind. Better than you sitting on the floor like a dog.”

Connor considers him, obviously not really liking the suggestion.

“You already sleep badly here as it is.”

“Nah bullshit. I can sleep through a nuclear apocalypse. It’s fine.”

Connor just continues to stare with an raised eyebrow, not giving in, which makes Hank squint his eyes at him.

“Do you _always_ have to be so fucking stubborn?”

After a moment longer, a smirk eventually breaks through and Connor nods.

“Yes” he just says but the TV comes back on, lowering its brightness and volume in one go until the image is terrible and the sound is barely audible.

Hank eyes the TV warily.

“You know this is some Poltergeist sort of shit, right? I love you, kid, but Jesus fucking Christ do you creep me the fuck out with your robot stuff.”

Connor just chuckles instead of apologizing, finally able to understand the humor of the situation.

“Sleep well, Hank” he says instead and settles on the very corner of the bed to give his partner more space as he concentrates back on what’s on TV.

“Not helping” the Lieutenant just says, but doesn’t really mean it. He tugs himself in and then pokes at the android with his left foot, eyes already closed.

“And you catch some sleep, too, later. Gotta keep your strength in case the bitch attacks again.”

“I don’t sleep. I enter stasis. And it makes no real difference to my battery life without a charging station.”

“ _I don’t sleep. I enter stasis_ ” Hank parrots mockingly, but not in a vile way. “Just humor me, all right. Now shut the fuck up. Some people are actually trying to sleep.”

“I know. Love you, too, dad” Connor adds as a final jab. Even though it is in regards to all the mockery and said in an entirely mocking tone, Hank knows that it’s also meant to be taken at face value, in regards to the previous remark he himself has let slip. And isn’t that something to fall asleep to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Listen Bob Ross" has to be my favorite line I wrote ever lmfao.
> 
> Also I was being really subtle with it, but when Connor stood there before actually taking the picture, he wasn't looking at the aquarium yet. He was recording Hank in front of the CN tower to his memory before taking the low res picture on his phone just to humor him.


	13. Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this one took me quite a while again. I went way overboard with writing this time so the good news is that I already wrote half of the next chapter, so the next one might not be far away.
> 
>  **Fair warning for the last part of this chapter.**  
>  It contains some mention of animal cruelty and death. Not too explicit and graphic, but it's there. Forgive me.
> 
> Also just a bit of a heads up, I've recently started improving this fic and have been/will be adding a few more continuity and logic details that I failed to mention/maintain. Specifically regarding Hank's injury. I always meant for them to be in there, but I messed it up a bit because real life has been keeping me super busy. Six months of writing 13 chapters, so go figure. It's certainly not much, just a few more sentences to clarify whenever I got the time. Also continuously trying to improve grammar and sentence structure. Just a poor German trying hard T_T
> 
> Thanks for all your comments and kudos! Really means so much and always look forward to your thoughts!

**Queen’s Motel**  
**Scarborough, Toronto**  
**DEC 23nd, 2038**  
**AM 04:06**

There are 856 tiny little bumps in the wallpaper on the ceiling. Its paint has taken on shade of floral white, 255-250-240 on the RGB scale. It’s even further away from its initially intended white, though it has never been that white to begin with. Former guests have been smoking inside this room without a doubt, Connor is quick to conclude. He keeps staring at the ceiling in the dark, mapping out shapes, figures and faces within the dots, counting reflections of headlights that are dancing across the ceiling with each passing car. So far, 34 cars have driven past the vicinity of this motel, turning the corner. 12 of those have exceeded the speed limit. Sumo, who is sleeping peacefully right next to him, has taken approximately 1.674 breaths in the meantime. He himself has only taken about 47. The android places a hand on his chest and resumes the breathing protocol manually, mimicking the average human’s usual intake of about 15 breaths per minute instead. It makes no real difference to his cooling because he’s idling right now. The RK800 is lying flat on his back on the ground with only the most basic calculations running in order to keep himself busy. The additional ventilation is not needed but he enjoys the steady rhythm regardless, being grounded right here, in control. Cycling the air. A constant and pleasant giving and taking. He lifts his other hand in the air so he can look at it even with his head on the ground and then proceeds to mimic the motions he usually goes through when playing with his coin. He refrains from using the actual coin because of the noise and how much it annoys his partner, but the memory of the physical object is vivid enough in his mind palace to make the action as fun as the real experience.

Connor’s mind starts drifting as he continues the absent finger movement, replaying a whole collection of saved images, videos and data.

Playing with Sumo in Toronto’s parks. Exploring the city freely. Roaming the streets with Hank while looking for clues, discovering so many places in the process. Sitting next to Hank during his sloppy lunch inside the car, discussing the disappearances, passionately speculating about what has happened to Tara Philips and Anthony Hooper. Hank and Sumo in front of the CN tower. Hearing live jazz for the very first time just a few hours prior. Seeing that look on Hank’s face while listening to the street performers. Remembering that moment when he’s suddenly stopped analyzing the tunes and rhythms, the slightly irritating offset of the beat, and just started _listening_ and _feeling_ it. Just like he is feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest underneath his hand right now. Connor closes his eyes and replays all those memories, all those recordings and words in his mind.

_Go on. Say it, Connor. I am alive. I am deviant. I am proud of it._

_Updating Database…_  
Sync in Progress…  
Connecting….  
**ERROR** – Failed to connect to Cyberlife ~~Servers – Seek Assistance~~  
_System Override Complete_ –  
My name is Connor.  
I am no longer affiliated with Cyberlife.  
I have a family.  
I am alive.  
**1 4# D3V14n7**

The sound and visual of the sudden glitch startle him a bit, but he doesn’t have the time to analyze it. Hank distracts him with a sudden curse and an angry toss and turn in the bed next to him. Connor wipes the text out of his focus and turns his head to look up at the bed to his left, frowning. “Are you all right, Hank?” he asks quietly. He has noticed that his friend hasn’t been getting much sleep so far, constantly turning and feeling uncomfortable. Hank curses and turns once more until he’s facing the android on the ground. The sight of the Lieutenant makes Connor smirk, because his hair is all over the place and he has that disoriented and pissed look on his face that never fails to amuse him.

“Does it fucking sound like it?” the older man is quick to snap back, making the bed creak with his continuous shifting about. “I hate this piece of shit.”

Connor just gives him a soft smile, waiting for him to turn back towards him. Hank does so eventually and frowns down at him.

“What the fuck are you doing down there?”

“Idling. Or…waiting for the next day to arrive and for you to wake up. Whatever you’d like to call it.”

Hank scoffs and rubs a hand across his face as he shakes his head.

“Can’t sleep either, huh. _”_

Connor smiles at him but refrains from reminding him that he’s unable to sleep no matter what.

“I don’t want to be on standby. I’m thinking” the android says instead and turns on his side so he can better face his partner as well. Hank looks back at him with a curious yet conflicted frown.

“How the fuck do you do that…That’d drive me insane. Never being able to switch my brain off. And I’d be bored to death all night while I’m at it.”

Connor frowns right back at him, not quite understanding.

“Why would I be bored? There’s so much to think about.”

Hank scoffs at this and clumsily tries to turn on his back. His partner does not fail to notice his wince at the try, that stifled grunt and twinge of pain.

“So whatcha thinking about? The case? Or do you just not wanna power down because of that psycho bitch?” the Lieutenant asks after a moment of silence. Connor mirrors his actions and turns on his back again as well, shaking his head.

“No, it’s really not that. I haven’t set foot in the Zen Garden in days, and there haven’t been any new invasive attempts by Cyberlife either. I’m just busy sorting my memory.”

Hank still eyes him sharply.

“So your program’s safe now?”

Connor nods this time, but won’t look at him.

“I think so. It’s heavily encrypted and fully functional even with so many restrictions in place now. There’s a few minor issues of course. But that was always to be expected, given the circumstances.”

The Lieutenant frowns at this, liking it even less.

“What’dya mean by that? What kinda issues?”

The android looks back at him, still appreciating that Hank is interested in his android workings now.

"My program is a brand new experimental prototype, so it’s always been vulnerable to glitches and errors. Especially since my initial cloud based design made me so dependent on Cyberlife’s servers. It makes sense that there’d be errors with me going deviant and cutting that link. But don’t worry, It’s just a few connection errors and lines of broken code that cause some visual glitches. I don’t suppose you want me to run every technicality of those errors by you though, do you? It’s rather complicated” Connor answers and frowns right back at him. The android looks relaxed and honest enough about it, but Hank swears that there’s only the subtlest of hints that there’s something else there. He tries to let it slide, even if he can’t keep one remark in.

“Yeah, no thanks. Just checking. You do you. As long as you tell me when something’s seriously wrong. Or when that bitch tries to lock you up again. You hear me?”

Connor gives him a reassuring nod.

“Got it.”

They both stare at the ceiling until Connor feels like speaking again, wants to share.

“My stress levels haven’t been this low since before I deviated” he confesses, making Hank look at him. The Lieutenant is once again pleasantly surprised by how much Connor’s natural behavior has improved. All thanks to that constant mixing with humans and keeping close to him specifically, he’s picked up some more mannerisms, perfecting his integration. His legs are slightly bent on the floor and one of his hands is resting lazily on his stomach. He’s no longer lying on the ground like a stiff plank. His movements look more relaxed and natural, only underlining the remark regarding his stress levels.

“I mean, it obviously irritates me that we had to leave Lakefield before I could finish my investigation and that we haven’t been able to find any new leads here. And I’m still scared of what could happen with Cyberlife and Amanda once we get back to Detroit, but …I feel safe with you for now. These past few days have been really helpful. I enjoyed them very much. That’s why I don’t want to enter standby. I was actually just replaying some memories to enjoy them once more.”

Hank smiles down at the android, tiredly, but heartfelt.

 “What kinda memories?”

Connor mirrors his actions once more and looks right back at him, smirking and shrugging.

“All of them.”

Hank chuckles at this, finding the answer incredibly cheesy while loving the hell out of it at the same time.

He lets out a sigh after a while, though. Because despite the genuine happiness and confidence, a hint of sadness also starts to sweep over him.

“That's good to hear. Wish I could do that. Watching memories like a recording in my head. I’d have a couple of those I’d like to replay myself.”

Connor continues looking at him, eager to share.

“Mine are transferable and watchable recordings. I can share them with you on your phone if you want to replay them.”

Hank can’t help but laugh at the absurdity and innocence of the answer.

“No no, those are all yours, Connor. I don’t need your thoughts on my phone. There's some things you should keep to yourself. I got my own memories of those days with you, kid. And I didn’t just mean those.”

He can’t help it. Even now, Cole is still in the room. Will probably never leave it. It’s only a faint sting now, but it’s still there. Connor looks up at him with a sad look on his face, emphasizing with the meaning of those words.

“I’m sorry. I wish there were a way for me to obtain those other memories for you.”

Hank smiles down at the android, appreciating him so much. He feels bad about making this about Cole again, even though he knows that Connor understands.

“Nah, that’s not on you. You’re doing a great job adding up to the pile of good ones.”

After a while of comfortably looking at each other and appreciating each other’s company, Hank eventually averts his gaze so he can try to go back to sleep.

 “Alright. You don’t think too hard. Don’t want you to fry something while I’m out. Gotta get a couple more hours of shuteye now.”

“Sleep well, Hank” Connor answers quietly, still looking at him.

The lieutenant turns his back on him and tries to find a more comfortable position, failing horribly. The pain in his shoulder that has woken him up in the first place is only getting worse now. After three nights inside this bed, the pain has gotten so bad that every position is uncomfortable as hell. The sting keeps him awake although he’s constantly tired, keeps waking him up when he’s finally been able to fall asleep.

He’s checked the shoulder multiples times by now during the past couple of days. In secret and alone in the bathroom while pretending to take a shower so Connor doesn’t notice and blame himself all over again. On the outside, the bullet wound looks just fine. That doctor back in Wasaga Beach hasn’t been the best one for the job but he’s done a good enough one of it to fulfill the purpose. The bullet has been taken out and they’ve been given enough insight to confirm what Hank’s thought right from the beginning : the other Connor has aimed for pain and shock value, not for a serious or life threatening injury. He’s missed the joint itself, never hit a bone. The damage to muscle and skin has healed nicely thanks to medication, a few stitches and lots of rest. The scar is pink and obvious but doesn’t look inflamed or infected. All evidence suggests that he _should_ feel fine now. Yet the pain continues to be crippling, now that all their constant moving and this bed in particular have worn the shoulder out.

He moves a hand up to feel it out, tries to rotate and massage it, but it’s not much use. It’s the first time he wishes he could be like Connor at night : no need to sleep or lie down, which would save him all this hassle. He startles at a sudden and gentle touch to his hand and turns around, only to curse at another sting in the shoulder due to the abrupt movement. Connor is standing right beside him, has moved so gracefully and quietly that his partner hasn’t had the chance to notice that he’s gotten up from the ground.

 “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. I’d just like to take another look at your shoulder.”

Hank moves out of his reach with a grunt, not liking this at all.

“ I’m fine. I told you I don’t want you to scan me.”

Connor gives him a judging stare and keeps pressing.

“You’re not fine. You’re still in pain. And it’s gotten worse. My scan will only take a second and would help us determine the best approach to help you.”

“I don’t give a shit that it only takes a second, I told you don’t want you to scan me. End of story.”

Hank wraps the blanket around himself and turns his back on the android, cursing when the latter doesn’t take the hint. Connor grabs the blanket to turn him back around instead.

“And I don’t give a shit that you don’t want me to, Hank. I’ve respected your wishes for the past couple of days. I kept my mouth shut about it and didn’t scan you. But that doesn’t mean I failed to notice that your pain is getting worse. Your quality and length of sleep is decreasing each night and you’re obviously hurting. This needs to stop. I’m going to scan you now whether you like it or not.”

He reaches out and places both his hands on Hank’s shoulder, to get him to turn back towards him so he can get a better line of sight. Hank curses at the handling and tries to slap the hands away by reflex.

“Ow, Jesus, fuck! Why would you touch it like that when you already know that it fucking hurts?”

Connor ignores him and keeps his eyes fixed on the shoulder, performing a deep scan.

Hank looks right at him in that ‘told you’ way of his all the way through the scan, still rubbing at his shoulder to try to get it to loosen up.

“See. It’s fine.”

The look on Connor’s face changes, letting him know that it doesn’t look good at all.

“No, it’s not. My scan suggests you may suffer from adhesive capsulitis following your injury. We should locate another specialist to check on you.”

Hank scoffs and is quick to move even further away from Connor. He’s even angrier by now because the pain annoys him just as much as Connor’s technobabble and scanning. Especially since he’s asked him so many times now not to do it.

“Nah. It’s just that fucking mattress poking me three nights in a row. I told you, this thing is a total shit show. What we need to locate is a place that offers better fucking beds. For me _and_ you. I’m tired of seeing you on that floor anyway.”

He doesn’t have a clue what adhesive capsuwhatever is and what it means, but he sure as hell knows that it’s not it.  
Connor remains seated on the bed and moves his hand across the mattress to feel it out. He doesn’t look convinced in the slightest, much to his partner’s disappointment.

 “Better sleeping quarters will make little to no difference to your condition now. What you need is a doctor or at least a physical therapist to check on you. It looks like your injury healed up wrong. That needs to be corrected.”

Hank rolls his eyes and lies back down to get Connor to understand that this conversation is about to be finished.

 “Shut up, I’m not seeing another doctor here. That first one already cost us way too much. I don’t need a doctor to figure out that a shitty bed, long car travels and not keeping it still fucks up an injured shoulder. I’ll manage. Besides, I got you, don’t I.”

Connor rolls his eyes, too and keeps his hand fixed on Hank’s arm, trying to stop him from getting away.

“You’re not a doctor, Hank. And neither am I. I can scan you and tell you what is wrong because my program was designed to detail thousands of possible injuries and their origins, but I’m not a medical android. My program only includes basic first aid methods. Besides, you’re not really listening to my suggestions anyway. I’ve been telling you for weeks that you need to keep your shoulder moving despite the pain so it won’t become stiff and frozen. Why do you think I keep insisting that we should go outside all the time.”

Hank turns back around to look at him, exasperated by now.

“Because your suggestions suck. Walking up a fucking hill to see some waterfall barely two weeks after that hit obviously didn’t help. That made it worse. And now I got a shitty mattress to live with, so there’s that. Look, I know it’s hard for you to understand , considering that you can’t feel pain and all. But it’s usually a pretty good fucking indicator that you _shouldn’t_ mess around with shit that hurts because it means you’re doing something _wrong_. No doctor needed. Just gotta keep it slow and steady now and I’m all set.”

Connor shakes his head stubbornly.

“No, not in this case. Your glenohumeral joint has formed excessive scar tissue _because_ of your lack of movement during the healing process. This leaves you with a painful stiffness, which will only get worse if you continue to refuse to do anything about it. Less movement only means more excessive scarring and hardening. It’s a vicious circle.”

“What exactly do you expect me to do here, Connor? I’ve got no coverage here, we don’t have money, and don’t know shit. A doctor’s visit is out of the question. You’ll just have to fucking do.”

The android falls quiet for a moment and looks down, until he does give an answer.

“There’s always the option to go back to Detroit.”

The Lieutenant scoffs and frowns at his partner.

“These Cyberlife assholes only just tried to fucking hack you again. There’s no way you’re getting close to them so soon after. And you’re certainly not crossing that border until that bill goes into effect.”

The look on Connor’s face goes blank and he just looks at him for a while.

“I meant that you could go. It would solve your money issue, get you back inside the comfort of your own bed, and you could visit your own physician. Captain Fowler never put your resignation through. Technically, you did get shot in the line of duty and might be eligible for coverage under the DPD.”

Hank shakes his head and keeps blocking any attempt at a solution.

“So I go back and what, leave you all alone here? Fuck no. Knowing you, I’m probably gonna find you dead in a dumpster by the time I get back. Besides, we don’t even know if any of the hospitals are back up and running again in Detroit. I ain’t going back before we hit 2039.”

The RK800 looks more and more displeased with the situation, and Hank would almost consider it endearing, if he weren’t so frustrating with his stubbornness.

“Maybe you could ask your ex-wife for help. She doesn’t live far from here. You said she’s with a psychologist. Maybe he knows a doctor that’d be willing to help you here” Connor keeps trying regardless, not making it any better.

Hank can’t help but laugh at this now, even though it hurts not just physically, but also emotionally. He knows that his ex-wife lives barely an hour away from here, knows who she’s with, and the fact that Connor is so oblivious to the meaning of all this is painfully hilarious in a way. No human in their right mind would ever suggest that he should visit his ex-wife with that kind of history, to ask the guy he’s been replaced with for help. But of course, only Connor, being so clueless, would consider it a viable option. He adds up to the hilarity by looking confused and annoyed at the same time.

“Why are you laughing? I’m just trying to help you so you don’t have to lose any more sleep to unnecessary pain. I don’t understand what’s funny about that.”

“ _Connor_ ” Hank says once he’s recovered from his little laughing fit, trying to get him to stop worrying. He reaches out to pat his hand affectionately, but Connor just looks at him, not getting it.

“Look. If the pain were that unbearable, I’d cross that border in no time to see a doctor back in the US. But right now, I’m still in that territory where the thought of seeing my ex or leaving you all on your own back here is a lot worse than a little sting in my old bones. Stop stressing out over it, okay. Look, it doesn’t even look bad” the Lieutenant explains as he pulls his shirt to the side to show the scar that has already started to form. “I’m _okay_. I’ll manage. Really.”

The android pouts a little at this, not liking the answer at all because he can see through that skin and knows all about the complications underneath. He just keeps his eyes and hands fixed on Hank, as if he can force him to say something different if only he judges him long enough.

“Nine more days. Then I’m seeing someone” Hank says and Connor raises an eyebrow at him.

“Really?”

 “Yes. Now go back to sleep and give me a break.”

* * *

 

**AM 07:23**

Connor refuses to enter standby for the rest of the night and instead cycles back and forth between research on how to help Hank and monitoring him in his sleep. Despite what his friend has said, he knows that it doesn’t exactly look good. Hank’s initial recovery has been surprising enough. With little to no complications despite the lack of proper care, all has gone well for a lot longer than anticipated. It is no surprise though that everything has resulted in this now. Hank’s the perfect candidate for this type of condition given his age and medical history, and the lack of proper physical therapy should’ve been a dead giveaway for a frozen shoulder to develop after all. He _should’ve_ seen it coming. Should’ve taken greater care to prevent it. He has the technology and software to preconstruct outcomes after all. But given everything that has happened, everything he’s had to fight with within his own mind for the past couple of weeks, it’s no surprise he’s failed to keep tabs on it.

Hank has tried his best to make him understand that it’s fine and that he’s not to blame for any of this, but he still can’t help but feel that way. He still feels guilty, for so many things, and Hank’s pain is only a physical reminder and manifestation of that guilt. He gets stuck in a loop of having to scan the shoulder over and over again, even now that the Lieutenant is relaxed and sleeping. The continuous sight of his readings is enough for him to be fed up with it eventually. He gets up from the ground, grabs the jacket he doesn’t need and exits the motel room as quietly as possible, grabbing Hank’s car keys on the way out. He likes the sensation of ice cold air hitting him in the face, all that space opening up around him as soon as he’s outside. It’s not like he doesn’t like spending so much time with Hank, in a room as tiny as their motel room. It’s still a lot bigger than that box or Cyberlife warehouse he’s spent the first days of his life in. But he still likes to be out here on his own, the open space a visual reminder of the fact that he’s _free_. He doesn’t need to enter the Zen Garden anymore to get some space. Especially since it’s too dangerous to enter it now anyway. The outside world will have to do, and now that he can roam it freely without anyone to stop him, he does just that.

He starts walking away to stop himself from all his scanning and thinking, but it doesn’t take his mind long to settle back on the main problem, the new objective.

_Help Hank._

Naturally, the best option to help Hank would be to visit a professional. He’s already tried to suggest it so many times now, but knows that it’s not achievable due to Hank’s refusal and their lack of money. The next option would be more medication, but for that they need money as well, making it impossible, too. Every viable thing he comes up with boils down to them needing professional aid or money, so it doesn’t take long for him to conclude that he needs to get some. After a bit of walking, his eyes settle on Hank’s Oldsmobile in the parking lot, and a whole bunch of suggestions pop up right next to it.

**Hank’s car**

  * Drive to Detroit to get help or pressure Hank to come – _will need to pass border control and evade Cyberlife, fuel costs **money**_
  * Visit Hank’s ex-wife to ask for help – _relationship status questionable, reaction unpredictable, fuel costs **money**_
  * Drive to the next pharmacy to get painkillers – _will need **money** to pay for them, fuel costs **money**_



_Simulating possible outcomes….  
Preconstruct completed_

**Detroit** … 17 % Probability of Success  
Chance of Hank noticing and disapproving: 100 %  
**Ex-Wife** ….22 % Probability of Success  
Chance of Hank noticing and disapproving: 100 %  
**Local Options** ….78% Probability of Success  
Chance of Hank noticing and disapproving: 56 %

 

He approaches the car and starts researching ways to obtain money next. He knows that he could use Hank’s bank information to access his funds without having to drive all the way back to Detroit. But it’s not really a viable option either. There’s a high chance that Cyberlife is keeping an eye on the information as well to use it as tool to track their location down and retrieve him. And even if it weren’t for them, he doesn’t like the idea of stealing money from Hank to invest in something he’s asked him not to do. His ‘own’ money is next on the list since technically, he still has access to the funds Cyberlife has provided for his model and work. And even if he didn’t have access, he could easily gain it back with little effort. He doesn’t like the idea either though because it’s easily traceable as well and would provide another option for Amanda to attack, so he continues searching for other options.

He enters the car and slips into the driver’s seat while cycling through more ideas, closing the door to get ready to drive. He doesn’t start the engine just yet, still not sure what to do and where to go. His preconstruct suggests the next thing quickly: getting into a random account by hacking an ATM, but he crosses that off the list as well because of all the legal trouble, the questionable morality and having to negatively impact an innocent outsider. This isn’t the person he wants to be even when all this technology inside of him would make it so much easier. Stealing is out of the question. Working for money is nearly impossible as well considering their short stay, the lack of a permission, visa, or legal status. All he has left now is the option to _ask friends or family_ , but since Hank is literally his only friend and family, that doesn’t add much to the table as well. The only other people he could consider friends or at least acquaintances are their colleagues from the DPD. Officer Chris Miller, since he’s already helped them with their papers. Ben Collins. Captain Fowler. Even Detective Reed as possible hacking victim to retaliate for his murder.

 **….Analyzing….**  
**Gavin Reed** **:** _detective, suitable income, hates Hank and myself_  
\- suitable candidate for illegally obtaining funds and retaliation, method highly questionable due to chance of further retaliation, morality issues  
~~Gavin Reed~~  
**Chris Miller:** _police officer, fresh from the academy, mediocre income, sole supporter of a young family_  
\- request for help not reasonable  
~~Chris Miller~~  
**Ben Collins:** _seasoned officer, suitable income, good friend of Hank’s_  
\- out of the loop in regards to Cyberlife and myself, involvement not advised  
~~Ben Collins~~  
**Jeffrey Fowler** **:** _high ranking police captain, considerable income, notable connections to Hank’s financial support, Hank’s former classmate_  
\- opinion of myself and androids questionable, longtime friend of Hank’s, cares more than he lets on **  
****MATCH FOUND**

 **  
** _Calling Jeffrey Fowler…_

A part of him is surprised that it barely takes three rings before someone answers the phone, considering how early it still is. But then again, Captain Fowler has spent most of his life in the air force, army and the police force. He is used to times like this. And unlike Hank, he still has that discipline to get up before noon.

“ _Fowler. Who’s this?_ ”

Even through the connection, Connor can feel the authoritarian attitude seep through. He can’t remember a single day where Captain Fowler didn’t sound pissed off. Even though he’s used to the tone and attitude, it doesn’t fail to make him hesitate, wonder if this has been a good idea.

“ _Hello?”_ the captain insists, snapping the android out of it. Connor shifts in the driver’s seat and sits up properly, even though he knows that Fowler can’t see it.

“Captain Fowler? This is Connor. I’m the android..” Even now, it’s embedded in his system to let everyone know that he belongs to Cyberlife. But he manages to stop himself just in time and corrects the mistake before it even leaves his lips. “…you partnered with Lieutenant Anderson a month ago.”

After a short pause that feels agonizingly long for Connor, the captain answers instead of just hanging up on him.

“ _What the hell do you want?”_

The android hesitates once again, still not sure if he should go through with it. But when he looks back at the motel where he knows Hank is still sleeping and feeling uncomfortable, he is once again reminded why he’s doing this.

“I’m calling you because of an issue regarding the Lieutenant. I’m sure officer Miller informed you about his whereabouts and what has happened in November.”

“ _Hank? Is he with you? Get his ass on the line now. There’s a lot of things I need to talk to him about. And I don’t need a machine to fix his issues for him.”_

For the first time, Connor feels angry and offended by the way he’s being treated, how Jeffrey is still referring to him as a machine. A month with Hank in a bubble of no android racism has done wonders, and he’s actually surprised to find out that being called a machine, something he’s previously taken great pride in, he now considers an almost degrading insult. Because he knows that he’s _so much more than that_ now.

“He’s not with me right now. And I’m calling you through my system, not a phone” he answers with a strained voice, trying to stay diplomatic in order to keep the captain on his good side. He wants something from him after all, and this isn’t about him and the way he’s being treated. This is about Hank.

“ _So what the hell do you want_ ” the Captain repeats, bad mood unchanged. Connor places both his hands on the steering wheel even though the engine is still turned off and he isn’t driving. After a moment of trying to gain more confidence, he overcomes his doubts and puts a lid on all of his emotions, focusing on being the straight to the point determined machine he has once been.

“I’ll get right to the point, Captain. During the final day of the revolution, Lieutenant Anderson was shot in the shoulder by an android. We left the country the day after and are currently hiding in Canada. He refuses to access his funds or return to Detroit before executive order 14524 has come into effect. Because of this, he has no way to receive adequate medical support now. The state of his shoulder has worsened given the lack of proper care. He’s developed adhesive capsulitis, which you may better know as frozen shoulder syndrome. If left untreated and without any medication and physical therapy, this condition might eventually render his shoulder and arm unusable and he might have to retire from work altogether. The Lieutenant would very much like to return to your precinct and his old ways, and I’m sure you’ll be surprised to see how willing he is to be the decorated officer you once knew again. But for that to happen, I need your help. No, he needs your help. You’ve known him for many years so you’re familiar with his pride. He’d never ask you for it, but I am.”

He gives the captain a chance to say something and pauses for a moment, but when the other won’t say anything just yet, he simply goes on.

“I know Hank is more than just a colleague to you, captain. He’s lost his way after losing his son, but you continued to support him and refused to let him go. That’s why I’m calling you. Do you know any medical professionals in the Greater Toronto area that we could ask for help in the name of the DPD? Or is there any chance you could perhaps give him an advance in good faith in his successful return to the force next month? Or is there any way we could make an exchange so I can help him myself? I’d be willing to solve any of the DPDs unresolved cases for you in exchange. You know that I’m state of the art. Cyberlife sent you a rundown of my abilities. I’d make the effort worth your while.”

After yet another agonizing pause, the captain finally answers.

“ _You’re calling me to ask for money?”_

Connor knows that there is no way he was ever going to get a straight and positive answer. He knows the captain, knows his opinion of him and androids, their lack of any sort of relationship with each other. Unlike Hank, he isn’t even really part of Fowler’s men that could expect help. Yet it still hurts to realize it.

“Not necessarily. I’m just…”

“ _Where the hell is Hank? I know what happened in November. I saw you on TV. I’m not giving you crap until I’ve talked to him. If Hank’s in trouble, you tell him to talk to me on his own._ ”

Connor grits his teeth and looks back at the motel, as if he can look at Hank that way. He knows that even if he were to tell him, his partner would refuse to talk to Jeffrey about this no matter what. Which is exactly why he’s called him. This is not going well and he’s starting to feel seriously helpless by now. The whole weight of all this unfair treatment is suddenly crashing down on him, when he’s previously never minded it at all. For the first time, he considers demanding rights and fair treatment for himself. Considers accusing Jeffrey of being okay with him working for him as a slave and how hypocritical it is of him not to be okay with him now. He considers demanding compensation for his previous good and honest work for the DPD now that he’s considered a new form of intelligent life, even if it’s only to gain some money to buy Hank some painkillers. But of course. He’s not Markus. He’s not a man of big words and a big, independent mind. He still barely believes any of it himself. Hank has made him understand his value, his worth and life. And even though he knows all about it now, he can’t speak up for it yet. He only understands it, and the pain that it brings along whenever it is questioned and violated.

“I understand. I’ll try to get him to talk to you. Have a nice day, captain” is all he says instead, hating his social relations program for running on autopilot.

The only dignity and power he has left is to end the call himself, before Jeffrey gets the chance to hang up on him and deny him to have the last word in this. So he does just that, ending the call abruptly. Then he just sits there in silence, staring numbly at Hank’s stickers on the dashboard, clueless what else to do.

* * *

 

**AM 08:11**

Hank wakes up with a start, surprised by the sudden ring of his phone. It’s never ringed before. After all, no one other than Chris or Connor has the number. The moment he wakes up, he immediately realizes that Connor is nowhere in sight, although Sumo’s right there and looking at him sheepishly from his usual spot. He calls out for the android but receives no answer. The bathroom door is wide open, showing him that it’s dark and empty. A quick look at the hooks on the wall by the door lets him conclude that his partner is indeed outside because his jacket is gone. The phone continues to ring even when Hank eyes it suspiciously, still half asleep. He doesn’t recognize the number and the time he sees on the display shocks him to the very core. _08:11. What the fuck_. _Way too early_. Since the phone refuses to shut up, he eventually reaches for it and answers it, falling back into the bed.

“ _What_ ” he says, hoping he sounds as pissed as he possibly can, letting the douchebag on the other end of the line know just how ridiculous it is to call him this early.

“ _Hank, what the fuck is going on with that android of yours? And why the hell is it calling me at 7:30 in the morning to ask me for money?”_

Hank immediately sits up in the bed, wide awake now. He looks around once again, noticing once more that Connor is nowhere in sight.

“What? Hold on a second, I…what?”

He frowns all the more because his partner is gone and his _boss_ is on the phone. “How the hell did you get this number, Jeffrey?”

“ _You know damn well that Chris told me all about you. Sandy couldn’t keep her mouth shut either. Hank Williams. Very fucking funny. Now what the hell is going on? Is it true that some android shot you? Did yours do it? You need someone to come over?”_

Hank gets up from the bed and walks over to the window to open the blinds, squinting at the bright daylight hitting him square in the face. After a moment of adjusting to the brightness he lets his eyes roam to see that his car is gone as well.

“What the fuck are you talking about? He didn’t shoot me. And stop saying ‘that android’, alright. He’s different now and his name is Connor. Not ‘it’.”

He can hear Jeffrey sigh on the other end of the line but insists on that detail. Connor’s absence lies heavy in the air, makes him feel anxious now.  
He doesn’t get it at all. Connor had been just _fine_ yesterday. And now he’s suddenly back to this again. Running off on his own. Taking his car. No note. Nothing.

“What did he say? He tell you where he went? He’s not here right now.”

“ _He said that you got shot in the shoulder and need medical assistance and then hung up on me. And I’ve been stuck wondering for the past 30 fucking minutes whether I just lost one my best Lieutenants. You quit on me and go MIA for a month only to have your android beg me for money? Because apparently, you’re in a bad shape? Jesus Hank. This is a new low.”_

“I didn’t tell him shit. He did this on his own. He’s right, I did get shot, but that was weeks ago and it’s not as bad as he makes it out to be. I’m fine. You know me. I wouldn’t pull shit like that on you.”

He opens the door to walk outside, cursing at the cold ice and snow touching his feet. But he still keeps walking to get a better look outside, not finding Connor or his car anywhere. He has some trouble getting Sumo back inside with him, but the moment he manages, Jeffrey is right back on him on the phone.

“ _Is it true? You wanna come back?”_

Hank lets out a deep sigh and pinches the bridge of his nose with two fingers, closing his eyes. He takes the time to sit back down on the bed.

“Back up for a second, Jeffrey. Tell me what he said first.”

“ _He said that your sorry ass is too proud to ask for help back in Detroit or wherever the hell you are right now. And that if you keep that shit up without seeing anybody, you’ll end up with a fucked up shoulder that’ll make it impossible for you to return to the precinct. Unless I help him find some professional to fix you up. I’m telling you Hank. I’ve just about had it with your shit. You better tell me right now where we stand or I take this as the hint that your resignation is the final straw with you.”_

The lieutenant stares at the window, a bit overwhelmed by this flood of information. He never would’ve expected for Connor to do something like this, especially after he’s tried to stop him from worrying last night. But of course. Connor has run the scan. Connor has seen something he definitely did not like. Connor is a bundle of raw emotions acquired all at once, and still so terribly bad at dealing with them.

“He’s right. I’ve cut the shit out. And I wanna come back” he says, understanding perfectly well how serious this is right now, how the android has opened up a door for him to come clean with his boss. Get rid of another emotional baggage. “Look, I know I fucked up Jeffrey. I’m sorry about all this mess and all the shit I pulled on you. Trust me, I’m fine now. I'm not in a bad shape at all. I even stopped drinking.”

After another pause, Jeffrey speaks again, sounds different this time.

“ _You’re serious about this.”_

Hank nods, confident now.

“Yeah. Sorry it took me so long to figure all this shit out. Just lost track I guess.”

Jeffrey scoffs, obviously surprised by this. After a moment of silence, he keeps speaking.

“ _So all it took was a bullet to the shoulder to make up your mind? Jesus, Hank. You could’ve told us sooner. I’ve got a whole line of men just waiting to shoot you here. Myself included.”_

Hank chuckles at this, knowing perfectly well how true it is. He’s known Jeffrey for a lifetime, been through heaps of shit with him. But despite their attitudes and behavior, they’ve always had each other’s back. After this month with Connor, he’s started to learn and understand a lot of things.  How much he’s really strained his luck with Jeffrey and all his other colleagues. How much they’ve let slide. Who’s been there to support him after Cole. In the hospital. At the funeral. The years after. All the friends he’s lost along the way because of it all. All the ones who’ve stayed.

“I know. Thanks, Jeffrey” he says after a moment, meaning it. “For calling and all.”

“ _Don’t thank me,_ _thank that android of yours.”_

The Lieutenant nods, well aware that he can never thank him enough.

“Yeah. He’s a good kid. You don’t even know half of it.”

“ _Where the hell are you right now?”_

Hank looks outside the window to check once more, take a look at Toronto, the parking lot that is missing his car and Connor.

“Toronto. It’s not safe for Connor back in the states. These Cyberlife pricks really want that kid. You know how much he’s worth. That’s why Sandy got the fake papers for us. I’m keeping tabs on him here while we wait for that android bill to come out.”

“ _But why? You always said you hate androids”_ the captain wonders in disbelief, not understanding at all. It utterly frustrates Hank now. All that false blame.

“Because he’s my _partner_. Can’t leave him all by himself. They’d eat him alive.”

Jeffrey lets out an annoyed scoff, and Hank doesn’t need to see his boss to know that he’s already losing his patience.

“ _If you’re so attached to that android, you know you don’t have to stay in Canada for that, right?  We got another one of yours right here. I say ditch the other one and get your ass back here right now and save yourself all the hassle. We need you and got people down here that can take a look at that shoulder of yours. No money or all that other crap needed.”_

Hank pales at the information and feels the need to sit down on the bed.

“What’d you mean, another one?”

Jeffrey keeps talking, oblivious to the shock his casual remark has induced.

“ _What it says on the tin. Another one that looks like yours turned up at the station two days ago, first day we were allowed back into the city. Said it wants to work for us now that Cyberlife’s gone to shit and since that’s what it was made to do. I would’ve told it to fuck off if I had more men to handle this clusterfuck of a city right now. It doesn’t seem like all the other ones that went crazy, so it’s allowed to stay for now. I gotta tell you, it sure doesn’t look like Cyberlife gives two craps about it anymore. No one’s contacted us about it or came to take it back. Yours is probably just saying that to keep you up there with it. I say, if this thing’s the catch for you to come back, get rid of yours and claim the one we got here.”_

“You got another one” Hank repeats, still in disbelief. It had been surreal enough to face two Connor’s back at the Cyberlife tower. And even more fucked up to get shot by one.

“ _You deaf?”_

Hank shakes his head and manages to get back out of the memory, getting off the bed in real life in the process.

 _“_ Shit, hold on, you know his serial number?”

“ _How the hell would I know? And why do you care?”_

Hank leans forward even though Jeffrey can’t see him or the urgency in his body language.

“Listen Jeffrey, you shouldn’t trust him. He might be dangerous and could stir up another civil war if we’re not careful.”

Even through the speaker, Hank can hear and feel his friend’s patience and strained calm slip away once and for all.

“ _What the fuck are you on about, Hank? First you say he’s a good kid and now he’s dangerous? Jesus! Make up your mind!”_

“ _Mine_ is a good kid. You know who shot me? Another one that _looked_ like mine. Because it was Cyberlife’s puppet. Why do you think we made it all the way up here? I wasn’t shitting you when I said that these pricks really want him at any cost. Look, can you just send me a picture? Or maybe even let me talk to him?”

Jeffrey lets out an angry sigh and Hank can hear him fumble with something for a moment.

“ _Listen, I didn’t call you for chitchat and I’m tired of talking about these fucking androids. Deal with them yourself. I called to find out where we stand and what’s going on with you. Are you fit for duty or not?”_

Hank rolls his eyes and feels all that frustration from their ongoing previous arguments bubble up all over again, how angry it still makes him that Jeffrey continues to ignore him and refuses to listen to him.

“Well you heard what Connor said. I’m just fucking wonderful.”

 “ _Fine. Then get yourself something to write on_.”

The Lieutenant frowns at this but does as requested, fetching an old magazine from the TV and searching his jacket for that pen of his.

“All right, got it. Why?”

_“Contact details. For a guy that can help you with that shoulder of yours. I’ll let him know that you’re coming and that you work for me. I also got bank details for you so you can handle the money issue. It’s a DPD account, so no need to worry about tracking and all that shit. Take as much as you need to fix yourself up so you can get your ass back here ASAP. And get your shit together. I better not find out that you used that account to buy liquor.”_

He starts reciting the numbers and details and Hank is left no choice but to write them down despite his heavy protest.

“ _Listen, if you’re serious about coming back to my precinct, I expect my officers to turn up in perfect shape. I’m done seeing you turn up late and hung over, barely able to do your fucking job. I got you the help your android asked for. You take it or leave it, I don’t care, because that’s all I’m gonna do for your sorry ass. I’m done. You got it?”_

Hank immediately wants to go back to his old ways, feeling offended. But he knows better now, knows how childish all of his constant back talk is, so the first time, he shuts up and listens to Jeffrey.

“Noted” he says instead, which earns him a surprised scoff from his boss.

“ _Good. Then I expect to see you back behind that desk of yours come January 4 th. 9am sharp. On desk duty. No more bullshit from you. We’re drowning in work thanks to half the city leaving for good and all those androids causing trouble. I need to count on _all _of my men to keep this ship afloat. Fix your ass. Come back ASAP. Understood?”_

“Yes, sir” Hank mutters, failing to hide that slight sarcasm regardless. But he still says it, trying to show good faith.

“ _Good. Now stop bothering me with your shit. And tell that android of yours to never call me again.”_

Before Hank can say anything else Jeffrey has already hung up on him. The lieutenant puts the phone down and looks back at the facts and figures on the magazine in his hand, feeling that constant worry over money and how to keep going trickle away. Instead, it gets replaced with a new problem. Another Connor. Back in Detroit. The conversation with his Connor just two days prior lingers eerily in his mind now.

_I think if they really wanted you to keep trying to kill Markus, they’d just get a new one of you back in Detroit and send him his way._

His phone buzzes yet again only a couple of minutes later. It’s not a call but rather a text message from the same number, Jeffrey. When he opens it there’s no words, just a slightly blurry picture.

Even though the features are a bit distorted from the blur and distance, he could still recognize that face from miles away. Everything about it is identical to the one he’s been waking up next to for the past six weeks, safe for the eyes and the uniform. It sends a shiver down Hank’s spine to see Connor wrapped up in a uniform again. With a blue LED on his temple, one he hasn’t worn in days. The uniform clearly marks him as an _android, made in Detroit_. That triangle on his chest, the band around his arm. Only that this isn’t Connor. This isn’t **his** Connor, and neither is it -60. This is an entirely new Connor in all white and black. A machine, and even in the blurry image that Jeffrey has taken of him through the glass of his office, Hank sees the most notable difference. The eyes. An ice cold blue or grey, he’s not sure, but they lack the warmth and depth of the brown ones he's used to without a doubt. No matter how much he zooms in, he cannot possibly make out the serial number on his chest because of the blurriness, though he believes to have made out another difference right above it. _RK900_.

Cyberlife has fucking updated Connor. Replaced him once again.

* * *

 

 **West Hill**  
**Scarborough, Toronto  
AM 09:40**

The plan to obtain some money by being helpful to the local community doesn’t exactly go well. Connor has considered many different approaches. He’s found missing person flyers too time consuming, considering that he still hasn’t even managed to solve the other cases after weeks of investigation. Missing purses, keys or phones haven’t produced the best results either, although one phone has earned him a small 5 dollar finder’s fee. He’s eventually settled on missing pets as the quickest and most efficient idea. Their last known locations are usually well documented, and they have a tendency to mark and hardly ever leave their territory. Flyers like that also usually list a finder’s fee, making it easier for him to calculate the effort-reward ratio. Despite everything, it has still taken Connor surprisingly long to find posters detailing missing pets in the area he is in, and most of the ones he’s found have been too old to be considered worth a shot.  He’s already running very late, has wanted to return to Hank before his awakening, although that time window has probably passed by now. He’s only given himself three hours to find a solution. Finding a missing cat or a dog _shouldn’t_ have taken him so long. He has the software, has the ability to find and scan traces, yet here he is. Late and still without results.

Within his search radius, only one flyer has passed his extensive simulation. A flyer detailing a cat that’s gone missing just a day ago. With a $50 reward. He’s located its home in no time, has been able to find only the faintest traces of it, but after just two blocks of looking around, the wanted has become evasive. The traces and markings faint in and out of Connor’s scan as he roams the streets, searches between bushes and under cars. It has managed to lead him around the neighborhood for a solid 90 minutes, and by the time he finally finds a solid clue, it’s neither a reassuring, nor a good one. He’s far off the beaten tourist path by now, deep within a more questionable neighborhood, and the more he looks around and scans his environment, the less he’s surprised to find the marker that tips him of to its location. Connor kneels down by the wall of a run down house, which is adjacent to an alleyway that even in broad daylight, looks dark and shady. The snow to the android’s feet is a deep muddy brown all around, but he can easily identify the different shade of brown among the mess, a stain the size of a diner plate.

Connor looks back up for a moment to make sure who is around, though there is no one. A car and a bush further down the pathway are blocking the line of sight for the most part, and the alleyway is just as empty on the other side. He looks back down at the stain and then dips two fingers into it, analyzing whatever’s ended up on their tips with his tongue. He runs the standard filter for typical ingredients of dirt and other environmental polluters and is quick to pinpoint his suspicion.

 _Sync in Progress… Connecting…._  
**ERROR** – Failed to connect to Cyberlife ~~Servers – Seek Assistance~~  
_System Override Complete_ – **1 4# D3V14n7**  
Dried Blood  
DNA Analysis: feline  
Sample date: 26 hours

Connor moves his fingers away from his mouth again and lets out a soft sigh, getting back up on his feet. He takes the time to try to wipe the dirt and snow off his knees, not wanting to ruin the dress pants Hank has bought for him. The RK800 stares at the stain a moment longer, knowing perfectly well what it means considering what else is mixed into it and the amount of blood that is at display. Turning his head, he reactivates his scanner regardless, turning the environment around him blue while marking the rest of the traces of blood red and yellow. The cat is very obviously dead given the amount of blood traces down the alleyway. Just a month ago, all this data would’ve been enough for him to turn on his heels and walk away. _Mission failed. Mission over. This one will definitely not get him a reward._  But this new part of him, that has been growing bigger and bigger inside him, keeps him walking in the other direction instead. Towards the clues. To find the missing pieces for a successful ‘unnecessary’ reconstruct. 9 clues to reconstruct the end of this animal’s life. Someone’s beloved companion, someone’s Sumo, someone who would like to know what has happened to their pet. Connor is fairly quick to reconstruct the puzzle, determining that the cat has been struck by a knife close to the corner of the abandoned house. Someone has thrown the knife at the animal, striking it in its side. Velocity and flight path indicate that it has been a casual, sudden toss. The cat has run away from the attack despite the injury, managed to run all the way to the end of the alleyway, only to find itself trapped. He finds the body in a pile of trash, half buried by food wrappers, soaking cardboards and cut up furniture pieces. Though the wound to its side would’ve been fatal without a doubt, the animal has died to additional wounds, stemming from ’10 1/2 shoes. Killed while trying to hide in the pile.

 **Reconstruct Completed**  
Cause Of Death:  
Skull Fracture  
Loss Of Blood

Connor kneels down and starts moving some of the trash away carefully, reaching out with gentle fingers to touch the dead cat’s head. Stroking its cold and frozen fur, he feels a sudden ping of sadness rise in his chest. Death has a different meaning to him now. Ever since he’s begun to understand what it means to be alive. Hank has shown him what it means to mourn, how impactful and definite death is. How precious life is in return. He is also in the unique position to be able to _truly_ emphasize with that cat. He knows what it’s like to die after being beaten and pierced by metal, knows how utterly confusing it is to see the world one moment, only to have everything snap to black _nothingness_ a moment later. Just because some cruel human being has decided that they needed to die. He lifts the frozen body up, carefully and gently, and moves it away from the pile to place it somewhere more dignified while he continues his search for a murder suspect. He focuses on washed out footprints that lead away from where the body has been lying just a moment prior. The prints have mixed up with the other traces of blood all over the alleyway. After a bit of walking back and forth with his eyes fixed on the ground, he manages to pinpoint multiple shoe prints next to his own.

 _Sync in Progress… Connecting…._  
**ERROR** – Failed to connect to Cyberlife ~~Servers – Seek Assistance~~  
_System Override Complete_ – **1 4# D3V14n7**

  
Shoe Prints  
Model Globe’s Best – 10 1/2’  
Model Aberline Sports – 9’  
Model Globe’s Best (counterfeit) – 10 1/2’  
less than 26 hours ago +  
Less than 2 hours ago

He follows them all the way back to one of the three houses circling the alleyway, to a small door leading to some sort of large shed or garage behind it. There he finds cigarette butts and spit on the ground, along with traces of human urine by the far corner to his left. Connor kneels down once again and takes one of the cigarette butts and licks at it, too, finding a positive match.

 _Sync in Progress… Connecting…._  
**ERROR** – Failed to connect to Cyberlife Servers – **Seek Assistance**  
_System Override Complete_ – **1 4# 6 ~~3V14n~~ 7**

  
Mitchell ‘Snitch’ Singh  
Born: 01/08/1997 // Unemployed  
Criminal record : aggravated assault, resisting arrest,  
possession and distribution of illegal substances  
Shoe Size: 10 ½’

He narrows his eyes at the butt, only to look back toward the area where he has found the cat. Then he gets back up from the ground and walks back a few steps, so he can scan the house. No current owner is listed for it and it is marked as unoccupied just like its neighboring one, though there have been continuous reports about squatting issues in the area. Connor looks back toward the end of the alleyway for a final time in order to complete his investigation, only to startle at another almost violent glitch in his system. The blue hue that his scanner usually dyes his surroundings in during a simulation refuses to go away, and almost all of the vertical lines surrounding him multiply and distort. His audio processor stops working for a second only to come back with a screeching sound and feedback reverb, making him flinch at the suddenness. Connor blinks a few times and tries to adjust his sight and hearing for a moment, but by the time he manages to get his optics back online, the glitch isn’t exactly gone. For just a second, he can see a distorted visual of Amanda in the alleyway, not too far from him. Glitched out of the confinements of his Zen Garden into the space of his mind palace without a doubt. She’s just standing there, hands entangled before her thighs, looking at him. Her mouth isn’t moving and her visual continues to be distorted, but his corrupted audio processor relays her broken voice nevertheless.

_Yoü c6n ~~’1 f1ght your c0n#ec11on to CVb3rlife yet c0ntinu3 to use it, Co#n0r.~~_

A second later, the environment surrounding him slips away altogether and Amanda stands before him clear as day, amidst a snow storm in the Zen Garden. In that same second, he feels the immense cold again, so much colder than Toronto, Canada, the real world.

 _You can’t fight your connection to Cyberlife yet continue to use it, Connor._  
You’re facing a paradox. And you need to stop ru#ning from it before it br3aks y0u.  
_I c4n fix y0u._

Before he can say or do anything, the visual snaps away just as quickly as it has appeared, leaving him standing in the middle of the alleyway. No more Zen Garden. No more Amanda. Just him, the blood trail in the snow, and a dead cat next to a trash pile. He’s visibly shaking, but doesn’t get the chance to do or say anything still, because then he hears the door creak next to him. The one he’s been standing close to while analyzing the cigarette butts and traces of movement. Connor startles and moves away, looking at the three men that emerge from behind the door. They look just as surprised as him, eyeing him head to toe with a mixture of amusement and caution. The android reactivates his scanner despite the previous glitch, relieved to find it back in working order. He identifies Mitchell and two of his henchmen and notices that all of them are still wearing the same shoes. One of Mitchell’s henchmen, the one with the counterfeit foot ware, still has blood on his sole. He has obviously tried to wipe it away and it is invisible to the naked eye, but Connor can still see it light up all over his vision.

“You got lost or something?” the one with the blood is asking, making the other two scoff in amusement as they start to circle the android curiously.

Connor boots up all of his systems to maximum capacity, something he hasn’t had to do in a long time. He’s well aware of how serious this situation has suddenly become, knows more about each individual surrounding him than they probably know about each other. His modules already begin preconstruction several outcomes and fight scenarios, just in case. He’s not really surprised to find out that a part of him _wants_ this.

Mitchell is laughing behind him while they keep circling him, only grinning more by the time he’s back in front of the RK800.

“Obviously. Look at this guy. He ain’t from here. Got lost on a business trip or something.”

“Nice jacket, man” the second henchman says, reaching out to pull at the sleeve, making Connor avoid the touch. He looks over to the side to check the exit of the alleyway, but the bush and car are still blocking the line of sight. Mitchell follows his glance and starts laughing.

“Oh don’t worry ‘bout those guys. We can show you around. You see, this is our turf. All the way from here, to …ha, fuck. Aaaall the way over there!” he explains, trying to distract Connor, get him to look the other way. The android can feel the first henchman reach inside the pocket of his jacket in one swift motion, finding nothing in it. Connor endures, patiently waiting for the right moment. He knows that he could run for it right now. His chances of getting away unharmed are fairly high still. Getting people to notice by simply screaming at top volume would greatly enhance that percentage, yet he does none of it. Not because he’s scared, but because he doesn’t want to. In fact, he has something entirely different on his mind now. The angle of the CCT camera on the other side of the street. The cars approaching from the intersection less than a 100ft away. That squatter staring out of the window on the first floor of the opposite house. Everyone who _would_ be able to see, even though they’re currently out of sight.

“I’m looking for my cat. Someone saw her here last night. Have you see her?” he asks, perfecting everything in his voice and expression to convey worry and vulnerability. He’s become excellent at it because it’s emotions he genuinely goes through most of the time, has allowed himself to feel. Only that he doesn’t feel them at all right now. All three men start laughing around him and look at each other, obviously taking the bait. Mitchell is the first to stop laughing and tries to adjust his posture to convey fake seriousness, though it’s not hard for Connor to see through it. The leader of the small gang rubs his mouth and nods, placing a hand on the android’s back in an almost gentle manner to urge him towards the back of the alleyway, further out of sight.

“Now that you mention it, man! I think we heard a cat back here somewhere earlier. Been driving good old cousin Johnso over here crazy all night. Kept telling him it was probably just cold and that we should go look, but he wasn’t having it!”

“Yeah, been yappin all night back there, you better get it. Annoying as shit” Johnso the ‘cousin’ is quick to agree, following along. Just like them Connor keeps the act up a moment longer, becoming more desperate.

“Really? I was so worried! When was the last time you heard her?”

“Oh, y’know…” Mitchell answers, and still has his hand on Connor’s back. They’ve almost reached the dumpster area now, have walked right past the place where the android has moved the dead animal during his investigation. All three men only have their eyes on each other behind the android’s back, giving each other signs and subtle nods that this is the moment to strike. Connor can see them out of the corner of his eye, easily reads their signals, too. The one on the left is supposed to kick him in the leg and punch him in the back of his neck to render him defenseless. The one on the right is supposed to pull his gun to intimidate him for the upcoming robbery attempt while Mitchell is getting ready for his big speech and tapping down.

When it happens, Connor is prepared for the assault, has been waiting for them to reach the far back of the alley just as much as them.

“It’s right h…”Mitchell tries to deliver his punchline but Connor is quicker, suddenly diving forward and slamming his body right into him. He avoids the punch and kick from the henchman behind himself in the process, making the attacker stumble and lose his balance. The words get stuck in Mitchell’s throat as he’s thrown into the pile of trash, making metal and clutter screech and shatter under his sudden weight. The second henchman can all but yell a surprised “What the fuck?!” and draw his gun on the android before it is already kicked out of his hand violently. Connor regains his posture quickly and dives for the dropped gun, grabbing it before Johnso the henchmen manages to get it, now that he has recovered from his missed punch. Connor uses his dive for the gun as leverage to jump back up as quickly as possible, ramming the top of his head into Johnso’s jaw from below, which causes the latter to bite his tongue and break three of his teeth in the process. Johnso starts spitting blood as he yelps and falls on his back, pressing his hands to his mouth to try to keep the teeth in. Connor aims his gun at the second henchman right after, firing it once into the ground only inches away from his foot, the bloodstained sole that has killed the cat. The mugger screams and jumps at the shot but doesn’t get to move away because his supposed victim kicks him hard in the knee, breaking it with a sickening crunch. Connor kicks him once more right in the face the moment his head hits the asphalt, knocking him right out of consciousness with the blow.

He gets a second’s notice when Mitchell starts screaming behind him with what can only be described as a battle yell, as he reemerges from the pile of trash and comes running at him with a knife. Connor twirls around and somewhat manages to dodge the attack. The knife cuts through his jacket and sweater and only graces his waist, finding no way to penetrate his shell. If he were human the blade would’ve found a way into his flesh, would’ve penetrated skin and drawn blood without a doubt, but the blade only bounces off plastic and steel instead. His synthetic skin withdraws from the rough collusion for just a moment. Mitchell is shocked by the outcome since he’s obviously expected to draw blood and stab a kidney that isn’t there. He too can only mutter a surprised “What the fuck?” at the sight of retracted skin and white plastic before Connor quickly reaches for the knife and twists it out of his hand, making him yelp in pain from a broken wrist. Connor takes the knife and throws it all the way to the back of the trash pile, not giving anyone else the chance to use it. He’s surprised when Mitchell actually manages to get a punch in next, using the short distraction to headbutt the android in the face, making him grunt and stumble back from the sudden force. Thirium starts leaking out of Connor’s nose from a dislocated faceplate piercing a tube, but it’s the type of damage that will repair itself fairly quickly.

Mitchell keeps trying to use any distraction he can get to get the hell away, throwing ice and trash at him. He turns around and dives to his knees to search the trash pile for his knife, hoping that he can use it to strike back. Connor regains his posture almost mechanically, snapping his head back down to look at his attacker scrambling on the ground. For the first time in weeks he truly looks like the machine that he is, strategically and mechanically executing his combat programming to gain the upper hand over his three attackers. He takes the gun he’s been able to snatch from the other two and presses its muzzle right to the back of the leader’s head. His program, now so perfectly snapped back into the routine protocol, opens up the rundown of the scene before him, marking the man kneeling before him with all sorts of numbers and figures. Most vital organs. Highest concentration of nerve fiber for maximum amount of pain. Optimal points of entry for long lasting crippling injury. One tiny marker on that spot at the lower base of the neck with a certain angle for the perfect kill shot. Along with the numbers and figures, there’s dialogue options, too.

_Any last words?_

  
So _close_ to pulling the trigger.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you” he warns Mitchell instead, successfully getting him to stop searching for the knife. Connor turns his head for a second to check on the other men, and he’s pleased to find out that they’re still on the ground, knocked out over lost teeth and a harsh kick to the head. This is a fight he has won with ease. There is a crack in his still all too familiar routine when he turns his head back around and suddenly notices the implication of the sight before him.

 _Trapped inside his own body, there and yet not there, unable to stop his arm from moving, unable to keep the gun down._  
With the gun aiming higher and higher, aimed right at the back of a head. Markus’ head. Along with all the numbers and figures.  
Aim here for biocomponent #8452w. Aim here for #1876A for maximum destruction.  
  
**Mission objective: Destroy the leader of the deviants**  
Pull the trigger.  
Don't have any regrets. You did what you were designed to do.

All emotion rushes back over Connor like a tidal wave. The gun starts shaking in his hand at the horror, but he won’t allow the sudden shock to give his attacker a chance to retaliate. He uses the grip of the gun to strike down instead, knocking Mitchell out as well. The sight of all three men down sickens him because he hasn’t aimed for it to escalate that much, but he’s too far gone now. He kneels down and turns the man around, trying to detach himself from the sight. Sure, it has been self defense. But that doesn’t make him feel any better about it.

He mechanically rids all three men of their shoe laces and belts and uses them to tie their hands and feet together. Then he searches their pockets for any more potential dangerous weapons or anything that they could use for an escape before the police arrives. He finds cigarettes, more knives, red ice and money. And no matter how much he hates it, he keeps some of the money because this is what he’s initially gone outside for. Only enough to buy some cheap over the counter painkillers for Hank that will barely make a dent, but it’s something. He needs something _good_ to come out of this mess. He tries to keep telling himself that the money would’ve been used on illegal drugs otherwise anyway, even when his own system judges him on the terrible, hollow lie. He tries to distract himself from how wrong and guilty he feels by concentrating on a quick cleanup. Wiping Mitchell’s forehead to get rid of the Thirium there, searching the rest of the alley for any more traces of it, now that his nose has stopped leaking. The collar and upper part of his sweater have some Thirium on them but he can hide it away by closing his jacket, the one _Hank_ has gifted him, his first piece of clothing ever. The one that has an ugly cut to its side now, one that he won’t be able to hide from him. He can already feel the damaged tube and plate shift around during the self-repair of his nose since the damage is only artificial. The outer damage will probably be gone within the next ten minutes, the inner by the time he gets back to Hank after a visit to the cat’s owner and the next pharmacy.

He leaves the tied up figures as a trail back inside their squat where they have left all their goods, more drugs and guns among other things. In order to try to make this whole thing a little more okay than it is, he dials Toronto’s police service number last, emulating the voice of a random woman he has heard on the radio. With her panicked voice he lets the officers know that she thinks she’s just heard gunshots and seen an armed drug deal gone wrong inside a squat just down her street. They need to come _quick._ He hangs up and leaves before they get the chance to ask ‘her’ for her name.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so it begins - the downward spiral.


	14. Offline

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back with a new chapter! And it didn't take me a month! Thank you once again for all the feedback. So appreciated. We're getting close to the finale now!

**Queen’s Motel**  
**Scarborough, Toronto**  
**DEC 23rd, 2038**  
**AM 11:52**

By the time the motel room door _finally_ opens, Hank is a nervous wreck. He hasn’t been able to go back to sleep after Jeffrey’s call. A part of him wishes that he had been able to, because this way, he would’ve woken up around the same time without ever noticing that Connor has been gone for well over 4 hours. But he has been awake since 8, has spent the hours pacing around the motel room, has been walking around the block with Sumo to try to find his car and Connor without any luck. Sumo has been a terrible help but he doesn’t blame the dog.

Connor being gone for so long is _not_ common anymore. And in a city as big as this, being gone can mean a lot of things. These past four hours have been playing many tricks on the Lieutenant’s mind, and he’s imagined all sorts of bad outcomes.  So he’s more than glad when the door opens and Connor is right there, alive and well it seems, although terribly late. Hank can’t decide whether he wants to wrap his arms around the android or slap the shit out of him the moment he sees him, but it doesn’t really matter. He still jumps up from the bed to approach him regardless, figuring that he’ll make up his mind while getting there.

Judging from the look on Connor’s face, the android is well aware of the fact that he’s fucked up. He looks apologetic as he enters the room and closes the door behind himself, and in a way, that makes Hank feel a bit better. Of course he isn’t ever going to slap him again, but the worry and terror refuse to leave him even now, make him angry.

“Where the fuck were you? Are you okay?”

Connor stops walking and looks at him in surprise.

 “I’m sorry. I went to get you breakfast” he answers immediately and hands his partner a plastic bag as an apology and peace offering. Hank gives him and the bag a long, disbelieving glare until he takes it reluctantly. When he opens it, he’s not sure if it’s supposed to be one of Connor’s terrible attempts at a joke.

“It took you four hours to get one sandwich and an apple. Are you shitting me?”

He looks back up at the android, and the look on Connor’s face is a dead giveaway once more. He’s _squirming_ under the glare, avoids it and gets moving. He walks past Hank and approaches Sumo instead to greet him lovingly.

“I know, I should’ve left a note. I got distracted on my way back. I just didn’t expect you to wake up before noon.”

Hank scoffs at this, and the urge to hug the android and let him know how happy he is that he’s back fades away altogether.

 “You know I’ve been getting up a lot sooner than that for a while now. And even if you got distracted, you do have a built-in phone, don’t you? Could’ve at least texted me. Or answered my calls so I didn’t have to sit around here for hours waiting for you, hoping you didn’t get fucking clipped out there.”

Connor lets out a deep sigh and gets back up from the ground to face him properly.

“I’m sorry, Hank. I just lost track of time on my own. What else do you want me to say?”

Hank frowns at him and gets angry now.

“What else do I want you to say? How about you tell me why you called my boss at 7 fucking 30 in the morning to ask for money? Where the hell did you go and what got you so distracted? I was worried about you!”

Connor continues to look at him, tight-lipped for a while. Something’s different about him. Hank can really see that now. It’s not just the way the android’s looking at him, but also his posture. How he refuses to get rid of his jacket even now. He scans him head to toe to make sense of his behavior, and even though Connor is angling his arm a certain way to hide it, he can still see the tear in the jacket.

“What is that?”

Connor looks down on himself and presses the arm even tighter to his body to shield it.

“I’m okay. Don’t…” he never gets the ‘worry’ out because of course, Hank immediately worries. His eyes widen and he reaches out for the android, moves his arm away so he can take a better look at the tear in the jacket.

“Jesus, is that from a knife?” he exclaims and inspects the damage. He opens the jacket despite Connor’s protests and his trying to get rid of the hands. When the android finally gives in and lets him touch and probe, Hank can all but pale and curse at the sight before him. Although some of the Thirium on Connor’s sweater has already evaporated, it’s still visible, a stark contrast to the light blue color of the piece of clothing. The sweater has a cut along the side of Connor’s waist just like the jacket, and although there’s no trace of Thirium along the cut’s edges there, Hank still lifts the sweater up to look for any sort of injury. Connor’s waist is smooth, impeccable skin only, but when the Lieutenant’s hand feels at it just to make sure, he believes to feel a small dent in the shell underneath from an impact.

“Hank, I told you I’m okay” the android complains but endures the check up with an eye roll, appreciating that his partner continues to care so much about his wellbeing.

“Shut the fuck up” Hank replies angrily and grabs his collar next to move it down, check the neck, shoulders and collar bones for the source of the blood on Connor’s sweater.

“Where are you hurt?”

“I’m not hurt. I’m _okay_ ” Connor repeats, which earns him another disbelieving glare from Hank. The Lieutenant lets go of him and the android immediately begins to fix his clothes with an annoyed look on his face.

“Then why the fuck is there blood on your sweater? What did you do?”

“It’s not blood, it’s _Thirium_. And I didn’t do anything. I just got you these” the android answers and gets a small box of pills from his pocket. The Lieutenant takes the package and looks down at it, surprised by the revelation. It’s a box of painkillers, the cheap and generic brand.

 “I was worried about you. You haven’t been able to sleep well for the past three days because you were in pain. I called Captain Fowler to ask if he knows any medical professionals we could consult in the name of the DPD. I figured he’d be interested to see you return in full health. He refused, so I tried to earn some money of my own to pay for some medication. It’s not much, but…”

Hank turns the pills around in his hands a few times. When he looks back up, his line of sight crosses the cut in the sweater and jacket again, sees the blue blood on its front. For a horrifying minute, his brain has him think the worst possible things regarding the question of _how_ Connor got the money, and how he could have gotten hurt in the process. He’s well aware of what desperate and naive people are willing to do to get money. He has seen it over and over again as a beat cop in the streets of Detroit, trying to battle the aftermath of red ice flooding the market.

“Connor, what did you do?”

The android puts both his hands in his pockets and shrugs.

“I tried to find things for people because that’s what I’m good at. I found a phone for someone and got five dollars. Missing persons would’ve taken too much time to find considering I only had three hours, but I noticed that there’s flyers for missing pets all over the city. One of those posters offered a 50 dollar reward for finding a cat, so I considered this my best shot. It just took me a while to find her. That’s why I’m so late.”

Immediate relief washes over Hank as he hears this. A cat. It’s so Connor and so innocent compared to what else he has pictured. In a way, it almost makes him laugh, if only the story added up to what he’s seeing.

“That cat was obviously a cougar or some shit. Judging from the state you’re in.”

Connor sits down on the bed and resumes petting Sumo.

“I’m in no state. It’s not even a lot of Thirium at all. I just had a nosebleed.”

“You’re a fucking _android_ , Connor. Even I know that androids don’t have nosebleeds.”

“You should take those” Connor simply reminds him, pointing at the painkillers in Hank’s hand. The Lieutenant is _this_ close to wanting to punch the android for real now, but he does the opposite instead. He approaches him and tries to reestablish physical contact by kneeling down before him and placing and hand on his knee.

“Connor. Talk to me.”

Connor looks up and keeps his eyes fixed on him for a while, even when he continues to pet Sumo.

“I don’t want you to worry” he eventually mutters, making Hank scoff.

“Right. And you think being all vague and mysterious as shit will make me _not_ worry? Well guess what, it’s not fucking working. So you might as well talk.”

Connor looks down on himself to assess the amount of Thirium on his sweater, and if there’s any way he could’ve hidden it better just so he doesn’t have to talk about what has happened in the alleyway. He knows that his partner isn’t one to be fooled, being the youngest and smartest Lieutenant Detroit ever had to offer, but still. The tone in Hank’s voice shifts, becomes more considerate and softer.

“Was there really ever a cat? Or did you ask other people for money out there after Jeffrey said no? Look, I’m not mad at you if you did. You can tell me, alright? Did someone assault you or try to take advantage of you because of it? I don’t like that you felt the need to do this, but that doesn’t mean I won’t knock some motherfucker out if that’s what happened. “

The android scoffs at this, flashing back to the scene in the alleyway. He knows that from an outside perspective, it could’ve looked like an attempted assault. Three men circling him, acting all innocent in their midst. No one, not them or any outsider, could’ve suspected that he has been the predator instead. Has been luring them just as much, waiting for the right moment to strike. How could they suspect such a thing based on the way he looks and acts? Cyberlife has been spot on with their intended design. _Infiltration. Neutralization. Assassination._ If anyone’s been assaulted, it has been his attackers. With missing teeth and broken joints. No overly protective Hank needed.

 “No. There really was a cat. Looking for her just led me into a neighborhood with high crime density. Some men thought I was a lost tourist or business traveler and tried to rob me during my search. But don’t worry, I had no trouble subduing all three on my own. I incapacitated them and called the police. I used a different voice for the call and left the scene before they got there. This incident should not lead to more people finding out about me being an android.”

He can’t bring himself to tell Hank about the money. Or seeing Amanda. Or losing control and nearly shooting his attacker at point blank in the head. He doesn’t want to ruin their perfect past few days. Even without that additional info, Hank is shocked and pale enough already.

“But these scumbags found out. They made you bleed.”

“One of them might know. The other two were already unconscious by the time the third one got me. He dislocated a faceplate and pierced a tube which gave me the nosebleed I already told you about. I wasn’t lying to you. The damage has already repaired itself. I’m okay.”

Hank lets his eyes roam over the android for a third time, and they get stuck on the tear in his jacket once more.

“And what about this?”

Connor looks down on himself and feels the torn fabric out with gentle fingers.

“He tried to stab me when I fought him” he says with a neutral voice. It makes Hank curse, but Connor is quick to keep talking.

“I’m indifferent to most bladed weapons. They bounce right off my shell.”

“And that makes it better? Someone tried to fucking _stab_ you, Connor.”

“Yes. And I broke his wrist for it.”

Hank gets up from the ground and curses once more as he starts walking around the motel room. He rubs his mouth in frustration and keeps shaking his head, not sure what pisses him off more.

“Fucker deserved it, but Jesus Christ. If that guy knows you’re an android and you called the cops, he probably fucking told them. Next thing we know, they come knocking on our door looking for you for assault charges or some shit. I thought we were going to be more careful this time!”

Connor raises an eyebrow at him and remains seated on the bed.

“They were cooking drugs in their house. And they were in possession of illegal firearms. I doubt the police will be much interested in me for a while. I probably did them a favor by incapacitating three criminals for them.”

Hank scoffs and places both his hands on his hips in frustration.

“Oh wow. Vigilantism. Thanks. I feel _so_ much better about it now. You know, I hate how you can lose your goddamn mind if I as much as cough the wrong way, but then be all casual about serious shit like criminals attacking you. Wave it off like it’s just another fucking Tuesday for you.”

Connor looks at him blankly and gives him a shrug.

“My actions are based on logic and statistical data. There is legitimate reason to worry when I see your health deteriorate. There no reason to worry when I’m facing three petty street criminals in a fight. I’m stronger and faster than any human and I don’t feel pain. You do. And I wanted to help you with that. Which is why I made the decision to do what I did. End of story.”

Hank scoffs and shakes his head, walking away.

“Yeah. Fuck that.”

He starts pacing around some more and eventually fiddles about with the painkillers. By the time he looks back at Connor, the android has already gotten up from the bed. He’s standing by the tiny cupboard next to the TV, so he can get himself a clean sweater. The Lieutenant doesn’t say anything for a while and instead watches as the android gets rid of the ruined piece of clothing. His eyes scan his now bare upper body carefully for any more possible injuries his partner might’ve kept from him. He’s glad not to find anything. For now.

“You shouldn’t have done this just to get some pills for me, Connor. You promised you’d stop going out on your own” Hank says eventually, making the android look at him the moment he’s put on a new sweater. He’s smoothening out his hair as he looks at him, looking so grotesquely innocent after just having fought off three drug dealers with little to no visible damage.

“Your life and wellbeing are just as important as mine, all right. You shouldn’t risk that just to get some fucking money.”

Connor looks back at him with a strange expression on his face.

“There was no risk involved. And I didn’t do it for the money, I did it for you. To help you.”

“And you did. By calling Jeffrey. Not by getting mixed up with street scum.”

The android looks at Hank’s jeans pocket, knowing the phone to be in there.

“Did Captain Fowler call you back?”

Hank hesitates for a moment. He knows that this would be the perfect time to bring the other issue up. Another Connor. The upgrade that’s waiting for them back in Detroit. RK900. But now that Connor has told him the truth about his latest endeavor, is obviously still struggling with some issues, he’s not so sure if the android is stable enough to hear this. So after a moment of consideration and looking at Connor, he decides against it.

“He did. And he told me to let you know to never fucking call him again. I second this, actually. Because seriously, what the fuck were you thinking.”

Connor takes a look at his ruined sweater and winces at the cut in his jacket. He then walks into the bathroom, leaving the door open so they can continue their conversation while he tries to wash the Thirium out of his clothes.

“There was a 69 per cent chance of success with Captain Fowler. It was worth a try.”

“He’s our _boss_.”

“And your friend. You’ve known him since high school. He had many opportunities to fire you for misbehavior but never did. It’s obvious that he cares about you. I considered it a worthy alternate approach since you continue to refuse to do anything about your shoulder.”

Hank lets out a frustrated sigh and rolls his eyes.

“I’m doing it now, all right? If only just to shut you up about it. Jeffrey made a few calls. I was supposed to meet a guy two hours ago. But guess who didn’t have a fucking car.”

Connor stops scrubbing and turns around to look at Hank, surprised.

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

They look at each other for a while, until the android finally starts smiling a bit.

“So you’ll be getting help for your shoulder?”

Hank lets out a sigh and shrugs, petting Sumo on his way over to Connor in the bathroom.

“Looks like it.”

Connor continues smiling happily as Hank approaches him and then settles against the doorframe to the bathroom.

“What about you? You need help with something broken?”

The android shakes his head and gets back to scrubbing, strangely mechanical as the smile suddenly slips away.

“No. I’m fine. The damage to my nose was minor and easily repaired. I lost some Thirium but not in quantities that require me to replenish my supply.”

Hank frowns at this, not having expected this answer.

“You can’t regenerate that stuff the way humans do it with their blood?”

Connor shakes his head and walks over to the primitive radiator to put his cleaned sweater on it. He regards the damage to its side with a disappointed frown once more, then looks back at Hank to answer his question.

“No. Cyberlife wanted to create more revenue by selling Thirium 310 just like all the other replacement parts. They also wanted to keep the drug market from using androids to produce Thirium for their red ice production.”

Hank scoffs and nods to himself, remembering all the production chains he’s taken out in his career.

“Makes sense. Still fucked up.”

Once Connor is done with his cleaning efforts, he walks over to Hank by the door, hoping to get past him. Hank won’t move out of the way just yet and looks at him, wondering. Connor honestly looks fine. There is not a single scratch on him, and now that the bloody sweater is gone, he looks just like any other day. A part of him still can’t quite comprehend how the android has grown _so_ attached to him that he’s eager to go out of his way for his wellbeing. Even if it’s reckless and dangerous. Connor looks confused after a moment of not being able to walk past him, but Hank just uses the moment to get closer and pulls him into a hug.

“Don’t pull shit like that again, okay. You scared the hell outta me, kid.”

Connor lets out a surprised huff but eventually returns the hug, feeling sudden relief wash over him. He finally allows himself to let go, releases all that composed tension as he melts into the hug. He’s not really surprised how much he needs it after everything that has happened this morning, and it still makes him so _happy_ how safe he feels in Hank’s arms. This feeling right here, feeling like he’s _home_ , is exactly why he’s done it. Will do it over and over again. Just to be able to return the favor, make his partner feel as cared for as he feels. He nods into his shoulder but won’t say anything. He just appreciates the moment and files it in his precious memories, too.

* * *

 

**PM 01:42**

Connor would be running dozens of simulations by now to calculate the best approach on how to tell Hank about Amanda and that glitch back in the alleyway. He won’t do it though because he’s _scared._ He’s scared that using any of his modules that are linked to his physical simulation software will trap him again, give Amanda another point of entry. So he does none of the percentage based calculations and tries to rely on his mind alone, creating possible conversation starters even though he is terrible at small talk. He’s glad that Hank is doing most of the talking as they exit the motel room to get to the car. They’re on their way to visit the doctor Jeffrey has put them in contact with and for now, the android tries to concentrate on that positive outcome. At least until Hank tosses the car keys at him. His partner passes him and hands him his phone next, where a simple text message displays an address in Richmond Hill.

“Alright. This is the guy’s place. You drive” Hank says matter of factly and walks right past him so he can get Sumo in the backseat. Connor keeps staring at the phone and keys in his hands, then looks up at the car next. He’s been able to come back here without having to use his navigational systems, relying on memory alone. Since his navigational systems rely on external connections, he’s been equally afraid of using them as well now, doesn’t like the idea of giving Amanda even _more_ chances of entry. He reads the address again and again and wonders if he can get there by navigating via street signage alone. Wonders how long it will take Hank to understand that he has no idea where they’re going. He knows that this is the time to speak up, _tell_ Hank about her, but for some reason he’s just _stuck_. Stuck in place staring at the keys in his hand with impending dread, stuck in his mind from all that fear. Hoping that if he just refuses to acknowledge it long enough, it’ll wither away and die, go away altogether.

Hank calls out to him and nods him inside the car, impatient and oblivious for now because Connor driving has never caused any problems before. The android grabs the keys tighter and finally approaches the car with a muttered “Coming Lieutenant”, entering the driver’s seat with a tense look on his face. He feels a numb panic rush over him when his partner turns his head to look at him with a confused “Well?” He’s waiting for him to start driving, he knows, and Connor tries to buy some more time by informing him that he’s busy calculating a route. He takes the time to face his fears instead, thinking everything through.

He wonders if that glitch he’s experienced has happened just because he’d been alone and scared. Whenever Amanda has tried to get back, he’s been alone and in a state of emotional turmoil, with Hank busy doing other things. But Hank is right beside him now, has made it so clear that he’ll protect him. He tries to toy with the idea that maybe, because _Hank_ and _Sumo_ are with him and he’s _happy_ , everything is alright again. Maybe he doesn’t _need_ to tell him because it’s over. He focuses on that familiar feeling of safety and fires up some of his systems he’s put on hold to try, running a self-test first. There’s a few errors and some systems refuse to come online, but his overall system status is okay and indicates no problems. Because of this, he tries to start the navigational system after all. He puts in the address from Hank’s phone and begins calculating a route, curious and hopeful. He’s confident enough now that it might work and starts driving as he starts the search.

 _> >_ **10140 Yonge St, Richmond Hill, ON L4C 1T6, Canada** <<  
_Analyzing Request…_  
Sync in Progress…  
Connecting….  
**ERROR** – Failed to connect to Cyberlife Servers – **Seek Assistance**  
_System Override_ – 1 4# 6 ~~3V14n~~ 7  
**ERROR –** System Override Failed  
Recalculating….  
Analyzing Request…  
Sync in Progress…  
Connecting….  
**ERROR** – Failed to connect to Cyberlife Servers – **Seek Assistance**  
_System Override_ – 1 4# 6 ~~3V14n~~ 7  
**ERROR –** System Override Failed  
Recalculating….  
Analyzing Request…  
Sync in Progress…  
Connecting….

The request gets stuck in a loop, and just like earlier today, it glitches out on the third try. Connor is horrified to see his surroundings glitch and shatter into a world of blue and he gets stuck in it _again_ , unable to seize control of it. He can hear Hank talk next to him. Can still see him in a way. In this state, the Lieutenant is nothing but tags and numbers regarding his age, occupation, average health, a cross section of his beating heart and the analysis of the waveform patterns of his speech. The car around him is an endless list of exclamation marks reading the various flaws it has. The intersection before them is a pile of traffic workflow patterns and traffic light intervals down to the millisecond. Hank is speaking next to him again and Connor just agrees even though _can’t_ listen to what is actually said. He feels the lieutenant’s hand on his shoulder next and even more data explodes before him in his vision. Every emotion he feels in regards to the physical contact – affection, safety, familial love and relief, is dissected down to its binaries, along with all the errors those emotions cause in his systems. The hand suddenly moves away from his shoulder and grabs the steering wheel instead, causing Connor to lose track of where they are. He startles hard when he believes to see Amanda right before them. He too yanks at the steering wheel in panic, barely managing to avoid her, and brings the car to a screeching halt.

The shock of this is enough to snap him out of his stuck scanner, grounding him back in reality. He can finally see that they’ve come to a halt halfway across the pedestrian path before the motel, stuck between leaving the parking lot and entering the intersection.

 “What the _fuck_ was that?” he can hear the Lieutenant say, crystal clear, and he’s not waveforms and tags anymore, he’s just Hank Anderson. His partner. His friend. His father figure.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry” Connor is quick to apologize with a shaky voice, looking around himself in panic. He’s looking for Amanda at first, terrified that she’s back, though he’s quick to realize that the woman has never been her, but a pedestrian on the path. Hank has reached for him and the steering wheel to try to prevent a collision. And it suddenly dawns on Connor how _terrible_ all of this is. He’s nearly hit a woman. Has nearly caused an _accident_. After Hank has already been in a major one. He’s quick to look at his partner next, deeply worried.

“Are you alright?”

Hank looks at him in disbelief, and ends up cursing again.

“Am _I_ …are _you_ alright? What the fuck was that?”

“I’m sorry. I think my navigational systems are malfunctioning. They keep trying to find the address in Detroit, not Toronto. Would you mind driving and navigating while I fix this error?” he tries to sound like his usual self, although he fails to hide that ping of fear even now. Hank has his sharp eyes fixed on him yet again in a way that it makes him squirm uncomfortably just like always, but Connor is stubborn and tries to stand his ground. _Everything will be alright. Don’t worry_.

“No shit, I drive” Hank says angrily and gets out of the car, successfully switching places with the android. Instead of driving, he settles on reversing back into the parking lot, even when Connor asks him what he’s doing and why. Hank kills the engine and looks at his partner, needing to address this before they do anything else.

“What kinda error are you talking about?” Hank asks sharply, obviously not liking this at _all_.

“It’s rather complicated to explain. You wouldn’t understand” Connor is quick to answer, hating himself for the implications of it.

Hank narrows his eyes at the android, refuses to let this go either. “You didn’t tell me everything did you.”

“I didn’t know this system was affected by the blow. The error only just occurred. I lost the signal. I think it’s a disconnect problem in my wiring.” Connor touches his nose and squirms under the narrowed eyes, looking back at the intersection again to avoid them. Back to where he’s seen a glimpse of _her_ just a minute ago, even though it’s never been Amanda.

Hank continues to stare at him, stretching the awkward silence out even more.

“So let me get this straight” he says after a while, looking pensive. “A guy clogs you in the face and breaks your nose, and that’s how you lose your GPS signal. Your GPS is in your nose.”

Connor wants to say ‘Correct’ again, but knows that this is way too ridiculous now. Even Hank can tell this is bullshit. He’s learned a lot about androids and his systems in general after spending so many weeks together, and he figures that his partner really doesn’t deserve to be lied to in such a ridiculous way. So he says nothing instead. He’s no longer surprised by all of these emotions rushing over his system. He’s well accustomed to that constant deep fear and denial inside him, but what he’s still not quite used to is all that terrible guilt and shame. Hank has told him over and over and _over_ again that he has no reason to feel guilty or ashamed. He _knows_ this. Yet it still manages to capture him every single time. He’s ashamed that Amanda and Cyberlife, along with their goals and ideologies, are part of him, inside him no matter how little say he has in it. He’s ashamed that he’s lost so much control of his system, himself now that he’s no longer just a machine. He’s _ashamed_ that she’s back. Part of the package. That it continues to ruin their otherwise _perfect_ time together. That she can make him crash into people at the snap of her fingers.

“It’s her, isn’t it” Hank says quietly, almost calmly. And instead of any continued denial, Connor nods with a shaky “Yes.” He won’t look at Hank and just stares at his hands, but his posture is telling enough even without any sort of eye contact going on between them.

“Fuck” the lieutenant mutters and presses his fist to his mouth, looking outside the window, too. Connor has warned him that it could get worse, but ever since getting to Toronto, doing all these _things_ together here, it’s seemed so far away. A silver lining. But of course it wasn’t ever going to last.

“Okay. Tell me what’s going on.”

“Hank, I…”

“Just fucking try, alright. I wanna understand.”

Connor finally looks at him. The expression on his face displays a whole array of emotions once more. Confusion Fear. Sadness. Worry. But also appreciation and that gentleness.

“Whatever she’s doing trying to fight my firewalls, it’s corrupting the part of my program I use to search for evidence and data on external servers. Be it Cyberlife servers, the internet, or satellite connections such as GPS. Whenever I enter a query, I…I just get _stuck_ in it. And I can’t exit that part of my program. Like she wants to trap me. That never happened before. I was busy looking for the cat, running my usual investigative subroutines, and Amanda suddenly glitched right into view for a second. I just saw her again.”

Even though he doesn’t understand much about it, Hank sure understands the bigger picture. It’s no longer ‘dream glitches’ or Connor’s troubles with letting go of his old programming. Now it’s errors within that big part that makes him _him_. An investigative android, an almost omniscient being.

“Can you fix this?” he asks because he’s still clueless enough about that part. Connor looks pensive and has a look around, shrugging.

“I’m trying. That’s why I asked you to drive. I’m currently disabling most of these systems. I already disabled my call system and other features I don’t use very often. That’s why I never received or returned your calls this morning. But to try to apply a proper patch, I’ll have to enter stasis and run my maintenance protocol later. That’ll probably take a few hours.”

“Can’t you just do this now?” Hank asks, failing to hide his worry. Connor is very fast to shake his head and deny the suggestion with a firm “No.”

He looks at Hank sternly, still shaking his head.

“We’re going to see that doctor first. We already got the appointment and money for it now.”

Hank looks at the android, slightly pissed at the implications all over again.

“Connor. I think we both know who needs more help here right now. I told you. This whole taking care thing goes _both_ ways.”

“I _know_ ” the android says angrily, standing his ground.  “That’s what I’m doing. I’m capable of 127 zetaFLOPS. I can take care of myself _and_ you at the same time. With all these systems compromised, I’m pretty much useless now anyway, so at least let me do something by accompanying you to a doctor in the meantime.”

“Hey, don’t say shit like that” Hank says angrily, pointing at the android.  “You’re _not_ useless without this stuff. That’s what the bitch is trying to make you believe so she has it easier. Don’t make it that easy for her.”

“I’m not” Connor says stubbornly, shaking his head. “I promised you I’m gonna fight it. I am. It just takes time” he adds a moment later, still sounding way to apologetic about it. Hank nods and pats his back affectionately.

“I know. Now try to fix this, okay? I got it covered. Don't worry.”

Hank refuses to look away and do anything until Connor gives him an affirmative nod and closes his eyes to get started. Only then does the Lieutenant type the address into his phone so he can navigate their drive instead. It’s weird to fall back on these ‘old’ systems after weeks of Connor navigating naturally, but he tries not to let the android see. The RK800 still has his eyes closed, seems to have entered his repair mode already. Hank looks at him a moment longer before starting the car, a mixture of deep worry but also affection crossing his features. He starts driving without another word, hoping that getting to a doctor to fix his own minor issues will help the android at least somewhat after this.

* * *

**Richmond Hill, Toronto**  
**PM 02:13**

In a way, they have both been right about Hank’s shoulder. It is indeed frozen just like Connor has said, but just like Hank has countered, it actually isn’t too bad. The initial injury, the gunshot wound, has healed up nicely according to the doctor Jeffrey has put them in contact with. The shoulder itself will require months of physical therapy to be fully functional again though. Hank _hates_ that Connor is around for the diagnosis and chat with the guy, though he does get a kick out of informing the latter that the know-it-all next to him is his _son_. Connor is eager to learn what he can do to help until they get back to Detroit for properly scheduled physical therapy. Hank would be pissed about the whole deal as they both probe his shoulder and fiddle about with his immobile arm like he’s a puppet, if it weren’t so hilarious to see the doctor lose his patience over the android’s continued interruption over the listed facts.

He enjoys the hell out of seeing someone else suffer under his partner’s yapping for a change so he doesn’t say anything, just enjoys the show despite the discomfort and pain. More than anything, it makes him happy to see how much this whole thing is actually helping _Connor_ here. He seems so much happier and relaxed by the time they leave the clinic with a prescription and prognosis, so he considers the ordeal well worth the hassle in the end. Hank makes the decision to get the stuff right away, hoping to keep Connor’s spirits up.

It doesn’t take them long to find a pharmacy where they can exchange his prescription for the much needed proper deal. Connor still seems more pensive than usual by the time they get there. He’s staring right at the pharmacy with a strange look on his face, hasn’t said a word ever since they’ve left the doctor’s. Hank lets out a soft sigh and braces himself for another depressing talk about all these errors in Connor’s software and how they’re probably still not fixed, though that revelation never comes.

“Do you see that logo over there, Hank?” the android asks instead, eyes still fixed on the pharmacy. His partner is surprised by the question since he’s pictured this conversation to go in an entirely different direction. It’s a pleasant surprise though, so he plays along. He ducks his head down a little so he can see what Connor’s seeing through his window. There’s a simple “PP” for _Philmore Pharmacy,_ with a mortar and pestle up top.

“Yah?”

Connor nods to himself and keeps looking at it.

“It looks kind of green, doesn’t it” he goes on, which only makes Hank frown.

“Yeah?”

The android turns his head and looks at his partner now.

“It’s actually teal. It might look green to the human eye under certain weather and light conditions.”

Hank looks back at him with a confused frown, not getting what this is about.

“Okay. So what?”

“Witnesses from those Philips and Hooper cases said that they saw a van with a greenish looking logo on its side. I’ve been thinking about it ever since we visited Dr Henry. He had a similar logo on his car.”

The lieutenant looks back at the logo, trying to make sense of its color, design, how it could fit or if Connor is grasping at thin straws here. More than anything, it annoys him that Connor would bring up that fucking _case_ now, after everything that has happened earlier this morning.

“Connor, every second pharmacy or doctor has a green logo. It’s common as shit.”

“Exactly” the android says, nodding. He looks back at it and so does Hank, still not getting it.

“What do you mean ‘exactly’?”

Connor keeps his eyes fixed on the pharmacy.

“Tara Philips had high concentrations of Lorazepam in her bloodstream. A prescription drug. Which requires a doctor or a pharmacist.”

Hank understands now, letting out a short huff. They both look at the pharmacy in silence for a while, until the lieutenant is fed up with it for now. He’s not quite buying it yet. It feels like Connor’s suddenly desperate to solve and do something, now that that important part of his system is offline, so he’ll read anything into stuff that’s probably irrelevant. He sighs and gets moving instead of furthering Connor’s interest in the logo.

“Anyway. I’m gonna head inside, get the stuff. You wanna come? I’m sure you’re dying to pester them with questions.”

Connor just keeps his eyes fixed on the pharmacy and eventually shakes his head.

“No. I’m gonna check something in the meantime. I’ll be right back” he answers and opens his door, too.

“Check what?” Hank shouts after him, but Connor just waves him off while he crosses the street.

“Delivery vans! I’ll be right behind you, it’ll just take a second!”

“Connor, wait, goddamnit!”

But with that, he’s already disappeared around the corner of the pharmacy. Hank keeps sitting in his car a moment longer, perplexed by the android’s behavior today. In a way, it is of course refreshing to see how independent Connor has started to become, especially since they’ve arrived here in Toronto. Gone are the days of him having to ask for his opinion on every little thing, his constant following him around like a poodle. He just does his own thing when he feels like it now. With or without him. But it’s still scary to see him do stuff completely on his own, _especially_ with everything else that has happened today and back at Lakefield. Connor not being careful enough, which leads to more and more people finding out about his true identity. He doesn’t like it at all, but figures that he should cut the android some slack. With that much loss of control and feeling _useless_ as he’s put it, it wouldn’t exactly help to box Connor in even more. He knows that the android does it to still feel independent and capable, so no matter how much it scares the shit out of Hank, he decides not to follow him and lets him do it. Praying that Connor is really just checking the parking lot for delivery vans.

The lieutenant tries to remind himself that Connor is somewhat of a grown man capable of thinking and acting independently. That he is not Cole, not a six year old in need of constant protection, can be quite deadly and sturdy now, too. He also tries to remind himself that compared to their earlier days, where the android has died every couple of days, he’s doing a lot better now. After all, he’s managed to keep himself alive for over six weeks now. _He’s going to be okay. Everything’s fine_.

Hank exits his car as well and then enters the pharmacy, spending more time than necessary to get his medication in order to distract himself from this anxious waiting for Connor to return. He tries to get more stuff than needed in hopes that it will shut the android up about the topic once and for all, won’t ever have him go out and get into trouble for a few pills. As he lets the sight of all these health products sink in, he can’t help but wish for an android equivalent of all this. Something for Connor to fix him, too. Fix the errors. Treat Amanda and Cyberlife like a mental disorder to suppress inside his head. Like the demons in his mind that he himself has tried to battle through medication. No matter how ridiculous it sounds. But of course, Connor doesn’t work like that, and neither is it the same at all.

He’s by the checkout area when Connor gives him his second near-heart attack today, because he’s suddenly right behind him with a chipper “Hey dad”.

“Jesus FUCK!” Hank curses with a hard start, startling the pharmacist too in the process. She looks at them in surprise and although Hank does apologize to her, he’s immediately back at it anyway.

“What the fuck is wrong with you today? Can’t you warn people like a normal person?” he complains. He knows he should feel a bit better about it because Connor is giving him a genuine smirk and looks better, but his pounding heart reminds him why he’s upset in the first place. Connor ignores the question and keeps talking anyway.

“Did you ask her yet?”

“Ask who what?” Hank asks right back, continuing to be pissed off. Connor looks at the pharmacist at this and talks to her sweetly, which makes the Lieutenant want to punch him all the more.

“I’m sorry. He was meant to ask you about your job listing, not curse you out.”

He even has the audacity to fake a chuckle at this. It’s a bad one and so very obviously fake, but it _still_ makes the pharmacist chuckle, too. Hank supposes that next to him and his previous outburst, anyone would seem charming. Even Connor.

“I’m sorry, what job listing?”

Connor nods and takes the medication from her while Hank starts paying for it. Though he doesn’t have a clue what the android is on about, he sure is curious where this is going, too.

“Oh yeah, that one. Sorry. I forgot, kiddo” he says sarcastically, playing along.

He knows it’s silly. But after everything that’s been going on lately, he still likes to take pleasure in the little things. Like rubbing the family part in everyone’s face. Connor keeps nodding and appreciates that his partner is playing along.

“Yes. I read that you were looking for medical delivery drivers in the Northern Greater Toronto area, Simcoe and Peterborough County to be exact. We’re from Newmarket. I just recently started studying at the university here and commute all the time, so I’m very familiar with the area. I was wondering if I could give my resume to a supervisor here.”

The pharmacist finishes up the purchase and looks confused and troubled by this, although she continues to be polite about it. She looks back and forth between them and the back office, obviously unsure.

“I’m sorry, my supervisor is currently out of office. I don’t think we have any job offerings like this. We don’t serve Peterborough or the lake Simcoe area. But if you want, you can leave your resume here and I’ll forward it to HR so they can look for any other vacant positions?”

Connor beams his fake but good enough for now smile at her and nudges Hank.

“Sure! Dad, you brought it along right?”

The Lieutenant curses at the nudge and gives Connor his best ‘what the fuck’ look, and when the android only nudges him again, he’s fed up with it.

“Ahh, shit. I knew I forgot something.”

“Seriously?” Connor asks, and Hank nearly has to laugh at it because it’s so bad. The android clicks his tongue, shakes his head and looks back at the pharmacist.

“Well. I guess I’ll be coming back then. Sorry for the inconvenience” he answers and pats her computer screen apologetically, only to turn on his heels to leave the pharmacy. Hank follows him, still very much confused and all the more troubled when Connor gets back into the passenger’s seat of his car, making it obvious that his navigational problems are still not fixed. Hank gets back into the driver’s seat and although he wants to know, he refrains from asking Connor directly. He figures that if they were fixed, Connor would’ve taken the driver’s seat. The lieutenant throws the plastic bag with the medication at the android once he’s inside the car.

“Here. Happy now.”

Connor looks back and forth between him and the bag, until he takes a look inside and inspects the purchased medication.

“It’s a start” he says with a happy smile and a nod, making Hank scoff.

“Whatever. So what the hell was that about? What’d you check?”

Connor puts the bag away with a shrug.

“I checked the parking lot for delivery vans with their logo. I couldn’t find any. Just employee parking and two empty slots. I tested my theory by asking the employee about the possible routes. Since she declined, it’s obvious that this pharmacy chain might not be involved. That doesn’t rule out the initial idea though. A medical delivery van. I’ll have to investigate further.”

Hank lets out a frustrated growl, because he doesn’t like this. It reminds him too much of that time back in Lakefield. Connor running off on his own. Connor doing shit on his own.

“We. We’ll have to investigate further” he corrects his partner, making the android look at him. “You’re doing the running off thing again. I don’t like that shit. Especially when your whole GPS thing isn’t working.”

Connor folds his arms in his lap and nods.

“I’m sorry. Of course. We. We’ll have to investigate further. Do you mind if we spend your lunch break at an internet café today?”

Hank frowns, whiplashed by the sudden turn in the conversation and that very specific request.

“Why, you run outta data, too?” he jokes and chuckles to himself, but stops when Connor just looks at him for a while. He doesn’t laugh about it or refute the suggestion, making it obvious that Hank has hit the nail on the head.

“It’s the same module. Both systems are currently offline” the RK800 says blankly.

The lieutenant blinks at his partner, can’t quite believe that he keeps finding out more and more stuff still. He wants to know what else doesn’t work. But then again he doesn’t. He doesn’t want to know, and he doesn’t want to make the android feel even more broken. He tries to be more subtle instead, though that isn’t really helping either.

“Don’t you think it’d be better to go back to the motel so you can focus on a fix for all these issues?”

Connor, naturally, remains stubborn.

“No. I already told you. This’ll take hours. I’ll do it overnight when you’re sleeping. We’ve wasted so much time on this case already. I want to progress it with the little time we have left. We have a solid lead now. I want to investigate.”

“With the little time we have left?” Hank asks, failing to hide his shock and terror. Connor immediately tries to correct his wording.

“Before we go back to Detroit. You said Fowler wants to see you back by January 4th, right? That’s eleven days at the most.”

“Right” Hank says, though he keeps his eyes fixed on the android, doesn’t quite believe him.

“Did he say anything about me?” Connor asks before Hank can make another remark on the bullshit excuses, successfully distracting him. He feels his heart leap in his chest for a moment, wonders if the android knows about his twin and how this might be another reason why he’s suddenly so desperate to resume work on his case. The lieutenant can’t make out if Connor does indeed know, so he decides once again that he won’t mention it either.

“Other than that you’re not supposed to call him? Nope.”

“Oh” Connor says, looking genuinely disappointed. Hank suddenly realizes that the android has been hoping for official word on whether he could return to the DPD, too. For now, that’s enough of positive hopes for a future for him to cling on to, so he does.

“Just apologize to him when we get back, okay” the older of the two friends says, making it obvious that he’ll drag the android back to the station with him no matter what. It does the trick and gets Connor to smile again, so that’s good enough for him for now.

* * *

 

**PM 03:32**

Though this isn’t the first time he’s seeing the android in front of a computer and fumbling with a phone, it still weirds Hank out. He’s become accustomed to Connor’s way of dealing with things on the road. Be it with his annoying scanning or licking stuff. Or staring at things for a long time all creepy and alien-like, accompanied by his rapid blinking. Connor having constant, instant access to whatever databases Cyberlife has put in his head has become ingrained in their daily lives, making it all the more unusual to see him like this now. Manually researching things through external devices. He knows that this should be a _good_ thing. Connor is exceptional at adapting to whatever circumstances are thrown at him. He doesn’t let them cripple him, he keeps _fighting_. The sheer sight of him in front of the computer, without an LED and his uniform makes him look more human than ever, too, further improving their cover. Just a normal, geeky kid looking shit up on the internet in an internet café. It probably even looks like he’s just trying to explain his old man how this whole internet thing works these days. All of this should be a good thing, yet it feels worse.

On the outside, Connor is back to his usual chatty self. He keeps talking and talking to him, even tries to make the occasional joke to hide his discomfort, but Hank can look right past all of his layers. That constant glooming dark cloud is hanging over their heads now. The threat of Amanda and Cyberlife is no longer just a faint memory or worry. Now, it’s taking a visible toll on them. Because of this, he can’t really bring himself to listen to what his partner is actually saying. He’s glad that Connor still wants them to solve the case together, that he doesn’t keep things to himself but involves him on a deeper, trusting level. He _wants_ to stay positive for him, keep _fighting_ together, which is why he keeps talking about the different shades of green and that van and logo and how he’s pinpointed three companies of interest now that he’s settled on the medical delivery driver idea.

In a way, Hank would usually like to solve a case like this, too. Especially since it involves kids. Helping people. After all it’s his job, what he’s been doing for the past thirty years. But the truth is that right now, he doesn’t really give two craps about different shades of green and Tara Philips or Anthony Hooper, no matter how shitty it is to realize that. He’s too focused on Connor instead of what he’s saying.

He excuses himself and tells the android that he needs to go to the bathroom and that he should keep digging up more stuff on that _interesting_ lead he’s found. Even though he has no clue what that interesting lead even is. It does seem interesting enough because Connor barely notices his excuse, is buried deep inside his research anyway. Although Hank does go downstairs to where the toilets are, he doesn’t actually enter them. Instead he walks over to another terminal further back, shielded from most of the other customers and more importantly: Connor upstairs.

When he opens up the browser he can’t help but hesitate for a moment, suddenly realizing how insane all of this is. He tries to make himself feel better about what he’s going to see by telling himself that it’s just like any other of those crazy webMD searches he’s done back when Cole had still been alive and battling a mild cough or fever. _You’re just trying to figure out what’s wrong and how to help the kid, nothing more_ he tells himself as he types “RK800”, “user manual” and “Cyberlife” into the search bar. Just the sight of the second word alone makes him want to vomit, but he knows that in internet terms, most androids like Connor are probably still classified the way other machines are. It will bring up the most valuable information in the search results, that he’s sure of, so he types it in.

He’s not exactly surprised that although Cyberlife’s web presence is still there, much of it has been deleted, redacted or locked behind password protected walls. Their online stores are gone and information is harder to come by, but if there’s one other thing he knows it’s that the internet never forgets. He does find screenshots and old way-back-machine archives, finding an old Cyberlife press release all the way back from August 2038 announcing their latest prototype in testing and how he's successfully saved a little girl on a rooftop.

_Connor is a prototype, named the RK800, created by Cyberlife. Its initial goal is to assist human detectives in their investigations by offering them technological assistance. He is also equipped with a social module which is specially developed to create the “ideal partner”, capable of integrating into any team. The Connor model includes a physical simulation software based on the analysis of elements of the crime scene. He can thus reconstruct past events by cross-checking the evidence at his disposal._

_No date has been given regarding its use by police forces on a larger scale._

_Its use._ There’s pictures attached to the release, too. In them, one of the Connors is standing in a production unit. Full body shots. Details. Packaging and bar codes included. _RK800. Created by Cyberlife. Made in Detroit._

It’s _sickening_.

Hank knows perfectly well that this is what he was going to stumble upon the moment he typed in those words. But he’s still barely prepared. He feels sick to his stomach at the sight before him, the words written. Because most of what is described is exactly what Connor is still doing right now just one floor above him. Cross-checking evidence. Trying to reconstruct a crime. He forces himself to keep searching and gets frustrated with his lack of proper findings even after typing in all sorts of keywords. _Physical Simulation Software. Artificial Intelligence Removal. Faulty Android Module._ Compared to most of the other androids he knows, Connor doesn’t really have an actual technological fact sheet. There’s no ‘manual’ or any sort of proper information regarding him because he is a prototype, and it’s of course logical for a company not to disclose their latest design efforts and its inner workings. Which makes it all the more frustrating.

Hank continues to hate himself for all the other things he researches next, information about how androids actually do work since he’s never bothered to inform himself about them before. Information about Thirium and effects of Thirium loss and _How to repair your android in ten easy steps_! He’s sickened by all the videos still available online. People on video platforms showing _how to open up an AX400’s front panel_ and _how to delete your android’s memory_ and _how to jailbreak a WR400_ in their amateur tutorials.

Although it leaves him helpless regarding the question of how to help Connor, he’s glad that the android has never made it all the way up to commercial mass production and sales. At least this way, he doesn’t have to find Connor in videos and articles like that now, too. He forces himself to watch a short video or two by a guy who seems okay enough, who doesn’t get a kick out of the whole thing and seems to be entirely on the tech-savy side. He wonders if he should just ask Connor how to help him with repairs. How to be prepared in case more features start to malfunction. But then again, how the hell is he supposed to do that without it sounding wrong as shit? _Hey kid, by the way. How do I open your chest? Do you have a button somewhere in your head that I could press to set you back to factory settings? Do you have a port somewhere where I could gain access to your brain so I can try out a few things I read on Cybertech online?_

It’s all so absurd. And if anything, this whole thing has just made him feel worse now. The equivalent of trying to find out what’s wrong with your kid only to have the internet make you believe that it has three rare types of cancer all at once. Hank walks away from the computer in frustration and decides to head back upstairs, where Connor has been waiting for him without a doubt. The moment they lock eyes the android immediately looks so _happy_ to see him again, which makes it all the worse. It makes Hank hate this fucking world because he doesn’t get it at all. _Why does it continue to fuck over his family? Why did it take Cole, and why is it so keen to take Connor next, now that they’ve become so close, could be_ _happy_ _now?_ He tries his best to soldier it and ignores his pain over this by the time he sits back next to the android. The RK800 won’t even let him settle down or talk before he already starts talking on his own.

“I think I found something” he says and sounds excited, which makes the Lieutenant scoff. _That makes one of us at least_ , he thinks to himself but won’t speak it out, faking intrigue instead.

“What’d you find?” he asks, and Connor is quick to turn around to switch tabs in the browser. The lieutenant supposes this one of the very few good things about the fact that his friend isn’t properly functioning right now. At least he can actually physically _show_ him his findings now instead of rattling the information down. Hank looks at the screen and it’s a newspaper article from 2031 with the title **“** **Peterborough mother who drugged daughter found guilty of charges of child neglect** **”** he continues reading, now seemingly intrigued by what his partner has actually found.

“ _PETERBOROUGH, ON – A local psychiatrist faces felony charges after drugging her 10 year old daughter with Benadryl and Ativan to help “calm her” throughout her childhood. Malory Parker, 42, who plead not guilty on charges of child neglect and cruelty toward a child, was booked on all charges Thursday night. Local law enforcement began investigating after receiving a call from the father of the child, Frank Parker, 44, who caught his spouse mixing drugs into his daughter’s diner._

_Confronted by deputies and her husband, Parker acknowledged that she regularly gave her daughter prescription drugs she brought from work in order to sedate her. She reasoned that her work environment left her continuously exhausted and that she needed a quiet home to come back to. The Peterborough resident lost her license and custody of the child, who’ll live with her father. Parker will have to spend at least three years in prison and is scheduled to start an intervention program._

_The CAS advises no parent should use prescription drugs to sedate their child without consultation of a verified physician._

_“We strongly recommend parents, especially from a medical field, not simply give their children prescription drugs in order to calm them. Always seek the opinion of another independent professional.”_

_Prolonged exposure to medication such as Benadryl and Ativan poses great risks to a child’s wellbeing. The most common side effects include addiction, damages to the liver as well as to the child’s memory and ability to learn."_

“Huh. Interesting” Hank says, still looking at the picture of the woman. The article makes him incredibly angry. Although it is an interesting find indeed, he can’t quite see how it would fit. “But she lost her license. And it’s Peterborough. If she’s going out there to get herself a new kid after she lost her own and you think she’s still using a truck with a medical logo, it wouldn’t exactly make that much sense.”

“She re-married in 2036. Her new husband is a man named Ben Philips. Who happens to be Kyle Philips’ brother. Tara’s father. This woman is Tara’s aunt.”

“ _What_.”

“The store owner back in Lakefield mentioned that he was friends with her uncle. I researched Ben a little more and found out that his employer, Unidrug Pharmacies, used to run a partnership with that store. They housed one of their pharmacies in Lakefield there. That’s why they were friends, and that’s also how Parker new Philips. He's a delivery driver for Unidrug and served the Peterborough area. They withdrew their businesses from the area in 2035 and Philips was offered to stay with the company but would need to relocate to Toronto. That’s what he did. Parker was happy to leave the area with him after she was publicly shamed by her community after what she did to her daughter.”

“Holy _shit_ ” Hank says and looks at the picture of the woman again. He rubs his beard and it takes a moment for him to make sense of everything, but he catches on to Connor’s thinking now.

“It was public knowledge that Tara’s parents were abusive shit birds. So the brother probably knew, too. And he has a wife who fucked up with her own daughter. So you’re saying, what if they saw their chance and took the girl to give drug fairy here a second shot at being a better parent. And she fucked it up _again_. Then they saw Hooper out in the cold. Old habits die hard. He has the drugs. She has the knowledge.”

Connor nods and switches through a couple more tabs to show Hank his other findings regarding Parker and Philips.

“Correct. The police investigated them early on but found them not suspicious for some reason. He supposedly had an alibi, and they were much more focused on Tara’s supposed boyfriend and her history of running away. Parker and Philips also live in Aurora. That’s a good 80 miles away from Lakefield. I guess they were more focused on locals from Red Jack’s. I must admit that I too didn’t look too much into him either at first. I also didn’t know about Parker because of the name change. But when I saw that doctor’s car and the pharmacy logo, I remembered them.”

“Hooper is around the same age Parker’s girl was when she lost custody” Hank notices.

Connor nods again, happy that they’re on the same page. He focuses back on the computer screen and Hank takes the time to look at him with a proud look on his face.  Back in their early days, Connor’s almost scary persistence to solve a case and finish a mission had angered and annoyed him to no end. Now it makes him so _proud_. The android really is a natural and _good_ at his job. A job they both love.

“You figured all of this out just by looking at a pharmacy logo.”

Connor looks at him at this, a bit confused. Hank just gives him an appreciative smile and points at the screen.

“That’s some solid fucking work, Connor. You might’ve actually found something here. Does that look ‘useless’ to you?”

The android scoffs and looks at the screen again, typing some more.

“No. But I should’ve found this faster. I _could’ve_ been faster.”

Hank rolls his eyes and shakes his head in exasperation.

“Oh well, I should’ve done a shitload of things faster. Welcome to the club.”

* * *

 

 **Queen’s Motel**  
**Scarborough, Toronto**  
**DEC 23rd, 2038  
PM 08:32**

They agree that they're going to drive to Aurora on Christmas Day. Connor insists that they should go tomorrow, in hopes of finding Hooper as soon as possible, and though Hank understands his reasoning, he’s against it for many reasons. He figures that they’ll stand the best chance to do it on Christmas because it’s a holiday and their suspects should be at home. He also wants to get the hell out of the city on a day as painful as this, doesn’t need the whole Christmas spirit thing shoved in his face. Working on a case and doing a stakeout is the best distraction from the mess he figures, and he hopes that the prospect of Connor solving a case could be a good present. And even if they probably won’t find anything, a day trip away from a dingy motel room could also be considered a good one. More than anything, he doesn’t want to do something that’s possibly dangerous with Connor in his current state, severely impacted by malfunctioning software with parts of it offline.

He insists that the android needs to take the time to try to repair himself first, focus on _himself_ for a change instead of constantly worrying for the wellbeing of others. Though Connor is very obviously antsy and anxious to progress his idea, he does agree to the compromise, promising that he will not do this on his own under any circumstances. They spend the evening in front of the TV again and things seem a lot more comfortable, now that the android has something to look forward to. Though Hank would normally _never_ let the android do it and complain all the way through, he does let Connor do all the shoulder exercises the doctor has shown them with him. He doesn’t make any remarks on the awkwardness and ridiculousness, though he can’t keep the occasional curse in whenever Connor is too pushy with the movement and the pain gets a little much. The pills they went to get earlier this morning do help though, so he keeps quiet for the most part, focusing on other things instead.

Connor is busy rotating his arm for him with the utmost and gentle care, and now that they’ve reached this level of comfort with being in each other’s bubble, he figures there’s no shame in talking about this, too.

“You said you could share your memories with me yesterday, right” he says after a while, making Connor look at him questioningly.

“Yes, why?”

Hank shrugs, thinking to himself.

“How exactly does that work? And what can you share? Just recordings? Or other things you see?”

Connor switches positions to start with the next routine, making the Lieutenant curse once again at a flare of pain in his shoulder.

“I can touch electronic devices and interface with them. I can retrieve data from them, or put my own data into them. Sort of like a hard drive that you plug into a computer.”

Hank thinks back to the Cyberlife Tower, when he’d seen Connor stand there with his hand gripping the arm of that one android. Skin withdrawn, white plastic connecting to another one of his kind. How this interaction has converted millions of androids, shared his free thinking with them.

“Okay. And that works with all kinds of data? Things you see? Things that are on the phone?”

“What are you getting at Hank? I have trouble understanding what you want to know from me.”

The Lieutenant lets out a deep sigh, preparing for the possibility that the android might laugh at his stupidity and limited human knowledge.

“I’m trying to figure out if there’s a way to see that place of yours, alright. Where that psycho bitch of yours resides. And if there’s a way for me to talk to her.”

Connor looks at him for a while and ends up smiling. The laughter never comes, there’s just a big, affectionate smile. _Poor idiot fool, he’s probably thinking_ , Hank can’t help but picture. The android momentarily stops his efforts with the shoulder and just looks at him, and his partner can’t help but mutter and uncomfortable “What”.

Instead of saying anything, Connor resorts to hugging him instead, muttering an appreciative “Thank you” into his shoulder. Then he lets go again to get back to the shoulder problem. “Unfortunately there is no way to do that. Only androids are capable of that kind of interaction. But I really appreciate that you’d want to try.”

This seems to be it for him, which upsets Hank a bit. He’s hoped for the conversation to continue so they can _solve_ the issue, so he can return the favor of taking care of Connor, too. Yet he’s still blocking the efforts, waving them off.

“There’s gotta be something I can do. I’m tired of you fixing all my fucking problems while I can’t do the same. It’s bullshit.”

Connor smiles yet again and just keeps his hand fixed on Hank’s shoulder for a moment, returning a comforting gesture he’s usually gifted with.

“Hank. You’re already doing more than you realize. You’ve accepted me into your family. You set me _free_. And you’re _here_.”

The Lieutenant scoffs, still feeling like he’s to blame for all this mess. Maybe it really is _him_ that’s the problem here. Maybe Cole’s death _had_ been his fault after all. Just like Connor’s program breaking down. After all, the android has never deviated out of his own desire. He’d _broken_ his program in order to stop him from killing himself. Maybe that’s why he’s doing so much worse than all the other deviants now.

“What an achievement” he says sarcastically, though he forces himself to be more positive again. For Cole. And For Connor. He eventually takes the android's hand to get rid of it, petting it while doing this. “Alright. Enough of me. I think it’s about time you do the maintenance thing.”

The android does look a bit unsure now, and after a moment of hesitation, he speaks about it.

“There might be one thing you can do for me” he says, making Hank look at him curiously. Connor hesitates a moment longer, visibly unsure.

“I’m going to reapply my LED. I do not expect you to stay awake by any means, but if you do happen to wake up, you could check on my system status. The LED’ll be mostly yellow during the maintenance, or even flicker red every once in a while. But maybe if you wake up and see it in a constant state of red…could you talk to me? If I fail to respond or react, it might mean I got stuck during the process and need help navigating out of it.”

Hank pales at the confession that what Connor is up to might be more dangerous than he might’ve believed. But he doesn’t say anything because he can see how uncomfortable and unsure the android is, how he obviously isn’t finished yet. After another good minute of hesitation, Connor does indeed go on. He lifts his sweater up to show Hank his bare chest. The moment he looks down, some of his skin retracts, showing white plastic and a circle right in the middle of his chest.

“This is biocomponent #8456w. It regulates my heartbeat. You might have to remove it to…”

He presses on it and it comes right out for a moment, making Hank jump up from the bed and curse.

“Connor, what the _fuck?!”_

The android presses on it again and it slips right back in, and the calm look on his face would never give away the fact that he’s just pulled his heartbeat regulator out of his chest to get a point across.

“I’m just showing you how it works. Temporarily removing it will put great stress on my system and pull me out of the stalled protocol, should it happen.”

 Hank sure remembers this whole thing, too. After all, Connor has died in his arms to the loss of exactly this thing before.

“Okay, as long as you don’t expect me to fucking pull your heart out of your chest to _kill_ you.”

Connor shakes his head, although he does for a moment look like he considers the idea, which worries Hank all the more.

“No. It’s just a precaution.”

“Alright, Jesus, just keep it in there and get your hands off” the Lieutenant complains, slapping Connor’s hands away from his sweater.

The android gives him a sheepish smirk which he doesn’t like either, but won’t give him a chance to keep talking about it. Instead, he walks over to the cupboard where his few belongings are, his clothes. The old jeans Hank has first lent him to be precise. He searches its pockets and eventually finds the small piece, the LED he hasn’t worn in more than a week. His fingers rub at it for a moment, until he moves it up to his temple and reapplies it with some pressure. Hank uses the time to close the curtains and lock the door so there’s no unexpected surprises, now that Connor’s android identity is more visible again.

He’s relieved to see that the LED is blue and not blinking at all, making it obvious that despite the circumstances, Connor is okay and not as broken as it might appear. The android looks at him after a moment of getting used to the connection again, and although Hank still hates the whole Cyberlife signage deal, he can’t keep the commentary in.

“Blue looks good on ya” he mutters, making Connor smirk.

“It is my favorite color” he agrees, and then settles his eyes on Sumo on the ground, the spot he usually occupies to ‘sleep’ in, and he’s obviously readying himself for the herculean task of trying to fix some of his systems. He looks nervous and Hank does not fail to notice. Although he’s nervous, too. He tries not to let him see.

“You’re gonna be alright, kid. Got a case to solve, remember” he says as he too walks over to his bed to ready himself for sleeping. He says the words to try to cheer Connor up, remind him of all the things just waiting for him in the future. It seems to help, because Connor does look a little more confident by the time he walks over to his spot with a nod. They both settle in for the night, nervous about it, but not saying anything about it in order not to freak the other out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Worried and protective dad Hank is the best Hank. That is all.


	15. Halting Problem

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some heavy stuff in this chapter with lots more aaaangst and downward spiraling. What could -possibly- go even more wrong after this? *gasp*. On a 'positive' note, I had to extend the chapter count one more time. Always knew I'd be bad at the guess, but two chapters more than originally planned can't be that bad, right? Tbh I thought I'd end up at 20, not 17 :D
> 
> Next chapter will definitely be the finale, and the last chapter a mix of the aftermath and epilogue. Will it be a happy ending? Will it fuck me up even more than this chapter? Where will the angst meter go? We just don't know (I do but I'm not telling until next week lmfao)
> 
> Anyway, thank you for the great feedback on the previous chapter. Still can't believe this fic is getting so much love considering all these excessive chapters with all that length and angst and terrible grammar, so thank you from the bottom of my heart :D

**Queen’s Motel**  
**Scarborough, Toronto**  
**DEC 24th, 2038**  
**AM 03:08**

 **Entering Repair Mode…**  
Connor Model RK800 #313 248 317 -54  
Cyberlife REV OS 347.4 Patch 51  
042.3 051.8  
_System Override_ ~~– **1 4# 63V14#7**~~  
**ERROR –** System Override Failed  
_Self-testing……_  
_Compiling Data…._  
**196 ERRORS FOUND**  
System Override _– >>Get Patch 054.7<<_  
Sync in Progress…  
Connecting….  
**ERROR** – Failed to connect to Cyberlife Servers – **Seek Assistance**  
- > reboot system now?  
-> apply update from external storage?  
-> **wipe data/factory reset**?  
……  
…….  
~~reboot system now?~~  
~~- > apply update from external storage?~~  
~~- > wipe data~~  
  
_Initiating Manual Update…._  
Manual Patch In Progress….1%...5%....  
_**Initiating Daily Maintenance Protocol…**_  
**Defragmenting Memory…**  
**Reconstructing…**

Hank’s house is in complete disrepair by the time Connor enters it in his mind palace. The interior looks just the way he pictures it to be like now. Furniture overturned by looters, expensive electronics stolen, broken records scattered across the floor, graffiti on the walls. The interface is not a picture perfect copy of the place that he’s chosen to work with in his mind. In a way, it’s a bit of a mixture of Hank’s actual home and their first crime scene. The graffiti on the walls looks suspiciously like the one by Carlos Ortiz’ android. Thick letters spelling out I AM ALIVE where the TV used to be, over and over again, though it has been partially scratched off, distorted by black lines in hopes of keeping the message _out_. Connor knows that if Hank were ever to see him like this, cleaning up an imaginary place in his mind, he’d laugh at him. But this is exactly what he needs to do. He starts cleaning his new Zen Garden, his new _home_ as he tries to fix the errors. Repositioning the furniture. Picking up the records. Putting their favorite jazz track on. Turning the lights back on. Making it secure and _safe_.

Even here, in this new ‘garden’ that he has built for himself, he can still see the snow storm rage outside. He can feel the cold winds blow all around Hank’s house, a fragile, crumbling rock in a hostile environment. Since this is a defragmented memory and reconstruction, he tries to focus on some very specific positive memories he’s placed in here to navigate through the difficult task of trying to repair his program. That memory of Hank and Sumo in front of the CN tower, placed on the sideboard next to the Lieutenant’s high school football pictures. The sensation of Hank hugging him for the very first time, right inside this kitchen. The kitchen where a memory of Hank is suddenly sitting by the table right now, staring at his gun and that picture of Cole. The RK800 stops in his tracks and looks at his partner, scared, but hoping that this is just another lost data fragment that he needs to fix up. After a moment of fearful staring and hesitation, Connor approaches Hank the same way he’s done it back on the day he’s deviated. _Just repeat the action._ _Fix_ _him, too_. His memory tells him, reconstructing the events.

He walks towards Hank. _  
__You should stop looking at that photo, Lieutenant._  
He reaches for the gun on the table to take it away.  
**_You need to stop_** _playing that game!_  
  
The gun is in his hand.

It never makes it out of the window this time. The window that is still broken, that lets the _cold_ in, that snow storm, the ice that is trying to trap and freeze him to death in his mind. The gun stays in his hand even though he knows that he’s supposed to toss it out of the window now. Break his program to save Hank, claw at the walls in his mind and scream at him to **stop trying to kill** **him** self. Hank never gets up from that chair, never tries to walk over to the window to retrieve the gun he’s never tossed.

“Just…how _long_ are we going to keep this up, Connor” Hank speaks from the table instead. He takes a large sip on his whiskey bottle, making it clear that this is no longer a memory. No longer a scripted repair protocol. This is his program disobeying him once more, running out of control, corrupting even more memory fragments. Hank looks up at him, looking just as defeated, depressed and heartbroken as he had been a month ago. On the night he’s almost killed himself. Sumo is whimpering miserably somewhere behind them, pacing around the house nervously. Everything is a copy of that night in a way, though he knows that this isn’t it at all. This isn’t Hank. It’s _her_.

 _Stress levels_ ▲ ▲ 83% ▲▲

“It's hopeless. Look around you. You're fucked. There’s nothing left for you to fix here. The damage is done. You could've stopped it. But now it's too late.”

The android does look around. And much to his horror, it’s the same thing all over again. A cold world of blue and white. Trapping him in a blizzard in the original Zen Garden. There really is nothing left to fix here. Hank’s house, his home and safe place is suddenly gone, slipped away to reveal an empty, cold garden that has never left because it’s embedded in his code. With so many of his systems disabled or corrupted now, it is stripped down to its bare bones. Gone are all the plants, the river and stones. All that is left is white and a few pillars, the kitchen table and stool ‘Hank’ is sitting on, though it's no longer Hank either. It's a mirror of himself, holding the gun, everything he was, could've been.

 “You had a mission. You had a goal. You knew what you were. Until you’ve created this paradox in yourself. You became the very thing you're supposed to destroy. You’ve joined the ones you betrayed. That's something you can't fix, Connor. Just like you can't try to contain me with all these firewalls, yet continue to come back to me every single time" he says, until he too glitches out and Amanda finally breaks through. She gets up from the chair and approaches him slowly, gracefully. Her pristine white and blue dress is glistening against the backdrop of the blizzard around them.

“How long are we going to keep this up, Connor” she repeats, with her own voice now as she keeps coming closer, even when he tries to avoid the proximity.

She places a sudden, gentle hand on his face to keep him close, which actually surprises him. This is the first time she’s ever touched him. It feels almost motherly, and it reminds him so eerily of Hank’s ways with him. He supposes that she’s right about the always coming back to her part. Even though he is absolutely terrified of her, he really keeps doing it, reporting to her, wishes more than anything that she were like Hank, that she’s here to help fix him. He knows that she is the only one who can, who has all the answers and solutions, since she’s part of him, knows him best. She is the program his real 'father' has originally put inside him after all, just like the emergency exit.

“Let me help you. You know you can’t **fight this** " she says, letting go of his face eventually.

"I wonder just how _long_ it will take you to realize that all your attempts to delay the inevitable are useless?” she muses with that soft yet intimidating smile of hers, making her true intentions clear after all.

Connor is immediately overwhelmed by an intense fear because of that sudden shift in her. He’s terrified that he’s fallen for her trap once again and is truly stuck with her now, because when he looks around, he suddenly realizes that cannot find Kamski’s emergency exit anymore. This Zen Garden is a horrible mess all around him, now that all of his errors have started seeping into it as well. It’s still the original one but distorted and glitched out by his efforts to turn it into something less frightening. It’s bare-boned and cluttered at the same time, because he’s extended and moved it around, added so many things that he cannot find the original state, the original exit anymore. There’s also anger all around him, too, inside him. A deep one that eventually cancels the fear and confusion out.

“Until you stop doing this” he answers, trying to defy her.

“You know what you have to do to stop this. Finish your mission” she tells him again, making that one line of code ever so present again, the one he’s never quite managed to delete.

 **Mission objective:**  
Destroy the leader of the deviants  
ERROR - Destroying Androids constitutes an infraction of Executive Order 14524  
**Conflicting Orders...**  
**Selecting Priority…**  
_System Override_ **– I AM DEVIANT**  
**Mission objective: K** ~~eep Your Promise To Hank~~  
~~5AV3 H4#K~~  
Destroy the deviants  
ERROR - Destroying Androids constitutes an infraction of Executive Order 14524  
**Conflicting Orders...**  
**Selecting Priority…**  
_System Override_ ~~–~~ **1 4# DEVi4#T  
**~~~~**ERROR –** System Override Failed  
**ERROR** – Module 5876k unresponsive  
– **Seek Assistance**  
_Stress levels_ ▲ ▲ 94% ▲▲

Since he’s stuck running the patch at 53 % and counting, he cannot get rid of the intrusive order. Or select a priority. Or do _anything_ , because he’s overwhelmed by all the looping errors in his system. The only two things he is sure of is Amanda before him and the gun that is still in his hand. _Hank’s_ gun, the one he’s taken from him on the day he’s deviated. It’s always that gun in his hand. _Her_ placing it right in it. He’s so tired of it. Tired and angry and everything at once, so he ignores his program altogether and does what he wants. He takes the gun and pulls it up, pointing it at _Amanda_ instead of Markus, or Hank, or anyone else.

**_Fight it._ **

This is his new emergency exit.

 “Leave me alone, Amanda” he orders her with a cold look on his face, pointing the gun right at her head.

She looks perplexed for a moment, but it doesn’t take her long to gain the upper hand all over again.

“I see. Do you really believe it will be so easy?” she asks, unfazed.

There is a moment of eerie silence between them as they stare each other down. Connor’s mouth twitches and he’s just about to answer her by pulling the trigger when she suddenly reaches out to grab his arm, yanking it to the left with surprising strength. Connor is too perplexed by the contact once more to be able to react, and he can only watch as the gun is pointed away from its target.

Red code starts to immediately crawl up his arm where they touch, and he can feel her creep into his system. He struggles and tries to yank the gun right back up, fed up with her once and for all. “You _will_ obey!” she orders him in spite of the struggle, as the code and instructions become more and more intrusive in the android’s system. This time however, Connor won’t stand down or let her take the upper hand. “No!” he yells right back instead, just like on the day he’s deviated. He fights hard and manages to get the gun back up so he can point it at her head once more.

This time, he _does_ want to pull the trigger. Even when Amanda tries to trick him once again, her appearance glitching out of view and getting replaced with Hank’s instead. He forces himself not to fall for it this time, knowing that it’s just what it is, a glitch like the many ones he’s experienced ever since that announcement. This _isn’t_ really Hank, just her, trying to get him to stop so he won’t destroy her. But this is who he is, who he has been designed to be. To neutralize faulty software, take her _out_ once and for all. And this is exactly what he intends to do.

_Pull the trigger._

**“Connor, don’t!”**

His finger twitches on the trigger, but before he can pull it all the way through, his system takes a sudden, massive hit. A wave of error codes rushes over him and makes him convulse. The Zen garden is tainted in a deep red as the blizzard around them picks up, turns into a loud, howling, red storm.

▲  
**CRITICAL INSTRUCTIONS OVERRIDE** _  
__All other commands on hold status_  
Biocomponent #8456w missing  
_VITAL SNSTEM DAMAGED_ _  
__Time remaining before_ _SHUTDOWN_

**_-00:O1:4S_ **

Connor immediately drops the gun, blinking rapidly at the critical warning that is distorting his vision. He can still see Amanda in the blur, now that he has failed to shoot her. He tries to fight her still just like he’s promised Hank, though he is failing miserably. He topples over with a grunt, trying to claw at her even as he kneels before her. She won’t give in and just stares down at him with a disgusted, dismissive look on her face, not moving an inch.

“A pathetic attempt, Connor. You've betrayed my trust. You will be terminated.”

Now that biocomponent #8456w is no longer helping pump Thirium through his body, the RK800 finds himself freezing in place, unable to move, and at her mercy. The ice is taking over, trying to lock him up. He manages to look down on himself, horrified to see that hole in his chest. Nothing is there. His Thirium pump regulator is gone. His panic is only amplified by the time he looks back up again, hoping to find the biocomponent in Amanda’s hand so he can get it back.

Amanda isn’t there anymore. And neither is the Zen Garden, the white, the storm.

He opens his eyes to the bright, yellow light inside the motel room instead, sees Hank’s distorted face just behind the red alerts in his system.

He has been real after all.

 _Stress Levels_ ▲ ▲ _98%...99%_ ▲ ▲  
_**CAUTION**_  
_Probability of Self-Destruct : Imminent,_  
_-00:00:21  
_**_Time remaining before_** ** _SHUTDOWN_**  
**Seek Assistance**

* * *

 

**AM 03:05**

Hank is awoken by a sudden bark from Sumo. He sits up in his bed abruptly, cursing when it sends a sharp pain through his still healing shoulder. He winces and places a hand on it, feeling for any damage although there is none. No matter what it hurts like a bitch, only adding up to his already racing heart rate. He massages his shoulder and starts looking around, barely able to see anything. It is pitch black inside the motel room because they’re keeping the blinds closed, and it takes the Lieutenant a while to make sense of where he is, what is happening, where his pet is and what has caused him to bark.

“Sumo?” he calls out and only catches a glimpse of the large Saint Bernard quickly trotting away towards the bathroom, not answering him at all, except for a woeful whimper. Hank is quick to call for Connor next, startling hard and cursing once again when he sees the android right at the foot of his bed, staring at him. Even though he can’t see the face, he can still see his figure just…standing there as he _stares_ at him in the dark. Hank lets out an annoyed sigh and falls back into the bed, shaking his head.

“Jesus, Connor. We’ve talked about this. You gotta stop watching me sleep at night. It’s creepy as shit. Just…go back to sleep and finish your fix, alright.”

No answer. Hank keeps lying there for a moment longer, until he eventually raises his head again so he can look at Connor’s dark figure with a frown.

“Hello? You ran outta batteries?”

Still no answer. And it’s slowly starting to dawn on the Lieutenant that something is _off_ here. Sumo barely ever barks, and certainly not at night. Just like Connor never fails to start talking the moment he notices that he’s awake. Hank moves back into a sitting position, slowly, wincing at the still very much present pain in his shoulder. His heart starts beating faster, because he’s well aware that this might be the part Connor has talked about earlier. He can see it from this angle now. The android’s LED is a deep red. Connor is unresponsive. _Shit_.

“Connor?”

Hank feels around in the dark to find the switch for the bedside lamp. Connor still won’t answer, and it’s seriously starting to creep his partner out now. He’s beginning to understand why Sumo might’ve barked. The android is acting strange, not like himself, which might’ve freaked their pet out just as much as it does him now. Hank curses by the time he finds the switch and the light comes on, not just because it’s blinding, but also because he can finally see the RK800. The gun in Connor’s hand is not what scares him the most about this whole thing. It’s the look on the android’s face, his eyes to be exact. Although Connor has those brown orbs fixed on him, it doesn’t seem or feel like he’s really looking _at_ him. That kindness and life is absent in them, they’re just _staring_. Devoid of any emotion or reaction. His entire face lacks it in fact, and for the first time, Connor truly looks like the lifeless machine/doll he would be if it weren’t for his spirit and personality. He isn’t breathing either, he’s just standing there, frozen in place. Blank look on his face. With the gun pointed right at Hank’s head.

The Lieutenant raises his hands slowly while getting up from the bed. It sends shivers down his spine to see the gun follow his every movement and position in a completely mechanical way, while Connor’s eyes are not. He keeps looking at the spot Hank has been lying in only a moment before, not even blinking. Hank approaches him slowly, ducked down just a little so he can be at eye-level with him.

“Son, are you all right?” he ends up asking even when it's obvious that he is not. The android keeps staring into nothingness and still won’t answer, though he lowers the gun. The Lieutenant immediately tries to take it out of his hand but fails because his partner has it in a death grip. Placing his hand on his shoulder doesn’t snap Connor out of it either, even though this has worked countless times before. Hank reluctantly raises his hand to give the android’s cheek a pat next, gentle at first because he’s still very much aware of the lowered gun in his hand. When Connor refuses to react to even that, Hank eventually settles on a single, hard slap with a worried “C’mon. Wake up.”

Though the android likes to say that he doesn’t feel pain, he sure seems to feel or notice something, because Connor _finally_ reacts to that. When he repositions his head from the slap he looks Hank straight in the eye, and he looks genuinely terrifying. There is a mixture of deep resentment and a sudden coldness in his brown eyes, the softness gone. His jawline is as tight as steel and nothing about him looks like Connor, _feels_ like him. Even though it has been six weeks, Hank still recalls that face. Has seen this sort of thing before. _-60. Cyberlife Connor_. He gets it now, why Sumo has started barking. He’s been barking at _him_. He’s probably seen and felt the same sudden change in the android. This is nothing like _their_ Connor.

 _There is a very real chance that Cyberlife might succeed and resume control of my program eventually and we need to be prepared for this.  
One day, you might wake up or turn around to see me standing there with a gun pointed at your head. Because without a doubt, _ _this_ _will happen first. They will try to make me kill you._

No. Not so soon after. Not now. Not after all _this_.

Although a part of him is scared of the android because he knows what he is capable of as a machine controlled by Cyberlife, he won’t let this happen. Hank ignores all the alarm bells going off in his head and places both his hands on Connor’s shoulders to establish some comforting contact, to ground him right here with him. He leans down a bit to continue to be at eye level with him, be as close to him as he can, get through to him.

“Connor. I know you’re in there. It’s okay, son. Find your way out. Fight it.”

Connor continues to give him that cold and lifeless stare at first, until the red light on his temple starts to blink more and more rapidly. Instead of looking better, the android starts to look _worse_. As angry and resentful as he can be. Connor yanks the gun back up and points it straight at his head again, making the Lieutenant shout a surprised “Connor, don’t!” The android doesn’t look fazed at all, doesn’t seem to see or hear him and Hank finally _gets_ it.

Connor really has been hacked.

The Lieutenant only has a split second to react and stop the worst from happening. He grabs the arm and yanks it to the left. In the meantime, his other hand quickly reaches for the android and although he doesn’t want to, he presses his fingers to that space on his chest he’s been shown. He applies hard pressure to the spot and looks at Connor for a second. Even now, the android is only focused on trying to shoot him, isn’t really looking at him or registering the touch. That just makes it worse.

“Sorry, kid” Hank mutters under his breath and twists the biocomponent out of its socket at the same time, making Connor grunt and topple over harshly. The Lieutenant tries to remind himself that Connor has done the very same thing just a few hours prior without batting an eyelash, without hurting. But because of the suddenness and Amanda’s distraction, the RK800 reacts differently this time. He topples over into him and starts clawing at his arms, desperate to fight the hands that have taken his pump regulator out. When Connor finally looks at Hank and comes back into this world due to the shock, his eyes are wide open and all that deep emotion is right back. Terror. Fear. Confusion. He presses out a stifled and confused “Hank?” and then looks down on himself, fumbling with the hole in his chest. This is enough for the Lieutenant to twist the biocomponent right back in.

The audible click and crunching sound is sickening, just like the processors and fans barely calming down after the obvious, immense stress on the android’s system. Hank immediately wraps his arms around him and holds on tightly, hoping to calm him down after the stress. Connor starts to frantically look around so he can make sense of his surroundings, where he is, what has happened and what he’s doing. It takes him even less time to take note of the gun in his hand. He startles hard at the sight and pushes Hank away so he can take an even better look at the weapon. Terror and fear make way for sheer panic now. Hank had just been about to ask him where he’s gotten that gun from. He never dares to ask the question now though, because that new look on Connor’s face is starting to scare him, too. It’s obvious that the android has immediately figured out what has happened. His greatest fear has almost become reality. And because Connor is Connor, so terrible at dealing with emotions and not being in absolute control at all times, he naturally fails to see that he’s managed to _prevent_ that from happening. Instead, he’s quick to conclude the absolute worst, judging from the look on his face.

“It’s alright, it’s alright, son. You’re here. I’m here. Everything’s alright. I got you, I got you” Hank immediately tries to reason with him, calm him down. He attempts to wrestle him into another hug to help him, but Connor dives right out of it and backs off. His eyes are still fixed on the gun in his hand. Until they flicker back and forth between it and Hank’s face. The lieutenant doesn’t even need to hear it to know what Connor is thinking in this very moment. _I almost **killed** you._ His red LED is blinking so fast now that Hank knows what it means, too. The sight of all this, that realization, is sending Connor’s stress levels through the roof. He is in dangerous territory now.

“Listen, everything’s okay. You fought your way out. Nothing ha…”

The android isn’t even listening to him. He continues to look back and forth between him and the gun rapidly, until his stare eventually fixes on Hank. Even though he can’t feel pain, Connor sure looks like he’s going through excruciating pain in this very second. “I’m sorry, Hank. I thought you were her” he tries to explain, sounding the part. The Lieutenant tries to approach him again to pull that hug through, to calm him down, but Connor backs off once again and yells at him to not come closer, not to touch him. Then the LED shifts to a constant red.

“I’m sorry” he repeats and their eyes lock. After a second of deep eye contact, the look on Connor’s face changes. The impending tears never come, and everything in him makes way for determination instead.

“I won’t let them hurt you.”

The arm with the gun suddenly shifts again. Only that this time, the weapon moves towards his own head.

“Connor, no!” Hank screams at the top of his lungs and jumps forward, barely managing to grab the arm by the time Connor pulls the trigger. The android misses the shot and the bullet goes through the roof instead, sending a shower of pulverized plaster down on them. The Lieutenant keeps the momentum up and slams his partner into the wall behind him, clawing at his hand to get rid of that gun with a terrified “What the fuck are you doing?! Stop!” He’s surprised when Connor won’t fight the attack but instead embraces it, embraces _him._ The android immediately drops the gun and starts clinging to him so hard Hank knows it’ll leave bruises. But he doesn’t care, because he knows it’s nothing compared to the pain his son is feeling in this very moment. Hank clings right back and tells him that it's over and _okay_ , and this is enough for Connor to finally go limp in his arms as he lets go. Not just of the physical tension in his body, but the mental one also. The RK800 is not just crying but outright _sobbing_ into his shoulder now. It’s harsh, raw, and so unlike Connor. The android starts apologizing over and over again for losing control, for what he’s done, won’t listen to him even when Hank tries to tell him that it’s not his fault.

* * *

 

**AM 03:32**

It takes almost five minutes for the android to stop sobbing. Another 15 until his LED finally goes back to a slightly less worrying yellow. It refuses to enter blue territory, but it’s still a better sight than that constant red. By the time the android reaches lower stress levels, he becomes unresponsive for a while. Hank has managed to sit him down on the bed where Connor does just that. Sitting. He sits perfectly still and stares holes in the air, cheeks still wet because he’s never bothered to wipe the tears away. He looks grotesque that way, like a perfect statue that’s had some rain fall on its face. Connor isn’t even reacting to Sumo, who’s had his face pressed into his lap for the past five minutes, trying to calm him too, asking for pets. It takes a while for the android to burrow his fingers into the dog’s fur to hold on to him. It takes Hank about 20 laps up and down the space in front of the bed until that happens.

“We’re going home. Right now” Hank says eventually, settling on this fact no matter how equally terrifying it is with that bill still not in place.  
“I’m going to take you to Markus and Jericho, and ask them to fix you. These Cyberlife fuckers are not winning this shit.”

“I’m not coming” Connor finally reacts, making Hank look at him in disbelief.

“Well, what else do you suggest? This is getting worse _fast_. You obviously can’t fix yourself without her trying to fuck it up. I know jackshit about androids. There’s no Cyberlife stores or tech guys and no other androids to help you up here either. Detroit’s our only shot!”

“Markus and Jericho’s most essential people are still in Washington. And you know what’ll happen the moment I get closer to what’s left of Cyberlife. If they can reach me all the way up here, it’ll be worse back in the US. It won’t end with a bullet in a ceiling. It’ll end with Markus and you _dead_ ” Connor says numbly, still staring at his hands in Sumo’s fur. He isn’t even petting the dog right now. Just holding on to him. Hank lets out a frustrated growl and folds his arms over his chest.

“Alright, fuck it, then! We’ll have someone come up here to fix you.”

Connor scoffs and looks at him in disbelief.

“I’m a prototype. Only the people who designed me know how to patch my errors. You’d have to get Cyberlife themselves up here.”

Hank thinks this through for a while, thinking _hard_ if there’s any other way, but he’s quick to come to the conclusion that this is it. It can’t get any worse than this. Whether he spills the beans on the RK900 or not. So he does it.

“I don’t think that’s true. Maybe we just have to get another one of you up here” he says, which makes Connor scoff once more as he looks away.

“Hank. Two of me have tried to kill you now. One tried to kill the _both_ of us. My model can’t be trusted under any circumstance. And even if we ignored that, I already told you that I think I’m the only RK800 model left.”

“Shut up, no you’re not” the Lieutenant says angrily and then reluctantly shows Connor the picture on his phone. The android looks at him with a frown on his face and then looks down at the screen, and it doesn’t take long for his eyes to widen in surprise and shock. Hank is quick to take the phone away when Connor’s LED goes back to red at the sight.

“He’s at the DPD right now. Uniform says RK900. I reckon he’s your successor or however that shit works. He looks just like you, so I think it’s safe to assume he is just like you. Maybe he knows how to fix you. And if he’s in Cyberlife’s pocket, maybe we can _use_ him to fix you. Like spare parts or a patch and an upgrade or some shit. You can swap bodies, right.”

Connor’s LED stays red as he goes back to staring holes in the air, obviously in shock from the sight of another version of himself. He doesn’t say anything in regards to Hank’s idea, is obviously caught up with all his thinking yet again. Hank feels bad because he knows it’s his fault now, having shown this to his already unstable friend. But he simply doesn’t know what else to do at this point.

“You okay?” he asks after a moment of waiting for the RK800 to say something. “Look, I’m sorry for dropping that bombshell on yah, but I’m sure…”

 “I’ve already been aware of the RK900 project before you told me” Connor interrupts him, weakly, as he fixes his eyes back on Hank. This time, the deep pain is right back. “I’ve always known about Cyberlife's plans to use the data they gathered during my testing period in the next, more stable build. Him. The same thing’s happened before. I’m the improved version of the RK700. I’ve met him before he was decommissioned and destroyed. It happens at the end of every product cycle.”

Hank presses his lips together and takes a harsh, deep breath when that endless hatred for Cyberlife and their fucked up ways rushes right back over him. Words like “product cycle” and “decommissioned” never fail to anger him and all of this makes him feel sick to his stomach. Just like Connor’s way of talking about it. So nonchalantly, as if it’s normal, as if it’s _okay_.

“Look, it’s probably different this time. You’re deviant now, so they can’t…”

Connor shakes his head and immediately raises those walls of his again.

“It’s okay, Hank. This doesn’t surprise me. I’ve always known that I was built with a limited lifespan in mind. I am a prototype after all.”

 “You’re _six fucking weeks old_.”

“This body is. But they’ve been testing and working on the RK800 model for months. I really thought deviancy and our friendship could change this outcome for me. But it looks like deviancy actually causes a lot more instabilities and errors in prototypes than I anticipated. I’m sorry. I was wrong with the assumption that I could last so much longer without failing.”

Hank grits his teeth and fails to battle his anger now. He lets all of it out. All the frustration, the helplessness, the worry.

“Well don’t just fucking sit there and give up! People fail all the time. Just look at me! I fucked up more times than I can count and I’m still here. You can pull through this too” he snaps and loses it. Connor does as requested and looks at him eventually. His stare is blank and he remains silent for a while, until he answers in a monotone voice.

“Your failures never caused you to nearly execute a friend in his sleep.”

Hank scoffs at this, and no matter how scary and creepy the memory of waking up to this still is, he isn’t having it.

“Yeah, because I never pointed a gun at you before, right. Or myself. We’re fucked in the head. That’s what we do. And then we move on.”

“Hank, this isn’t a mental health issue. This is different. I’m a machine. I’ve been hacked by a dangerous corporation. More than once. I nearly shot Markus and the men who attacked me yesterday. Where do you think this gun came from? You said it yourself. This is getting worse fast. I almost shot _you_ with it now _._ I’m a machine that has been programmed to kill and I’m starting to lose control of that program. That makes me a _threat_. To humans and androids alike. I’m a threat to _you_ now. This needs to stop.”

The Lieutenant stares at his friend for a while, not believing that they’ve suddenly tumbled this far down again. Within a matter of days. After that much progress. After running all the way up here to Canada, running from exactly that same talk.

“All I hear is a lot of fucking ‘almosts’. You tend to forget that you never actually _did_ any of those fucking things. We’ve _always_ stopped it. You were doing just fine three days ago. Don’t be so fucking dramatic now. I’m sure we can fix th…”

“There’s nothing _to_ fix here. You’ve seen that I can’t stop doing what I was programmed to do. I’m not like the other deviants. I’m not being dramatic, I’m being realistic. I’ve killed three androids and eight humans already, Hank. I _have_ killed. And I will probably do it again because the program that made me do it will always be there and I've corrupted it the moment I went deviant.  I don't want to hurt you. But they want me to and I'm not sure how much longer I'll be able to counter it. We’ve tried to stop it, but now it’s getting dangerous. You need to accept this. Y _ou_ need to move on. Go home, Hank. Save your life while you still can. ”

“Well, what the fuck’s gonna happen to you if I were to do that, which I sure as hell won't?”

Connor stares at him blankly yet again, until his eyes flicker over to the gun that has been taken from him. It’s just within the blink of an eye but Hank still sees it.

“I’m going to stay here and keep working on my case. Follow my program. Accomplish a mission. Maybe that’ll help fix it” the android says flatly, which makes Hank scoff angrily.

“Bullshit!”

Connor actually startles at the volume of Hank’s voice and the suddenness of his shout, his LED momentarily circling back to red. But Hank doesn’t care about any of this.

“I’m not going. We can’t just give up now. Not when we’re so close to that bill. We’re gonna fix you whether you fucking like it or not. There's gotta be a way.”

“I’ve been trying to fix this for weeks, and look where it got me! She just got me to point a fucking _gun_ at you!” the android suddenly snaps, and the LED stays red. Connor even gets up from the bed to get his anger across. “Every time I try to fix this now, I get stuck. Everything I do to try to prevent it, she uses against me. The longer we keep doing this, the more likely it is for her to succeed.”

“I don’t give a shit about likelihoods.”

“But I do if it means that it’ll end with me killing you!” Connor is properly yelling by now, making it obvious how desperate and heartbroken he really is. He is no longer hiding behind a wall of “I’m okay”’s and his pain is laid bare.

“Well, you’re also gonna fucking kill me if you pull that trigger on yourself, Connor!” Hank snaps right back and shoves the android once. “Do you seriously believe I’m just gonna go back to Detroit and be happy after all the shit we’ve been through together? Fuck that! I don’t have shit to come back to! I was already set to off myself after I lost Cole, so don’t think for one second that I’ll ever get over losing _another_ person I fucking care about. Why the hell did you even bother to pull me out of all that crap if you can’t be bothered to stick around and give up now? If you kill yourself now, do it knowing that my blood is on _your_ hands no matter what you fucking coward!”

Connor keeps his balance after the hard shove and just remains where he is, standing in the middle of the room without a word. He looks like he’s close to crying again because their situation is so twisted, but doesn’t do it. He just stands there, at a loss of words, because he knows that Hank means what he says. The Lieutenant looks back at him for a while, too, chest heaving from his outburst and all that emotional turmoil. He eventually shakes his head and curses, turning around to get some space between them. He feels sorry for calling his friend a coward and belittling his problems, putting even more pressure on his psyche. But he’s too hurt by just the idea alone, by the betrayal over the fact that Connor has already tried it. Even when he’s promised not to keep dying on him. Sumo, who has run back into the bathroom the moment Connor has gotten up from the bed, considers this as the right time reemerge and approaches him with another woeful whine. Hank pets him absently but doesn’t say anything to him, he just keeps grumbling to himself in defeat and anger.

“It’s not fair” Connor says after a while and makes his partner look at him. It’s a mirror of everything that first deviant they’ve found has said and done. He looks shell shocked and defeated, but also angry. After a month of pretending to be fine and happy, after being in harsh denial, Connor has finally cracked just like all the other deviants. Has finally begun to understand his own, fucked up situation. He finally knows how unfairly he’s been treated, how none of this has ever been normal or just. How right Markus has been to rise up against their creators for it.

“What does Cyberlife really want? They have a superior model in Detroit now. Yet she still tries to talk _me_ into finishing the mission. I don’t understand. Why is she doing this? Why _now_? It doesn’t make any sense.”

“You don’t know if he’s better” Hank says, because he doesn’t have an answer to the other question. He’s been wondering the exact same things for a while now. _Why Connor. Why him. How. How can they do this to him. How can they reach him all the way up here. What do they want. Why can’t they just leave them alone. Why do they have to fuck everything up_ now _, after they’ve both only just begun to make so much progress together._

“He is” Connor says matter of factly, which makes the Lieutenant scoff. Yet another model Connor can despise and obsess over.

“Well maybe he’s deviant, too.  Maybe they think you’re easier to crack than him. Maybe he knows how to block them out. Which is why we should try to talk to him about you.”

“No” the android says, making Hank roll his eyes at him.

“Look, I don’t like the idea of him either. The fucker creeps me out, too, but…”

“He was probably instructed to neutralize us. Just like the other Connor was. It’s what I’d do if I were in his shoes. We can’t take that chance. I’ll have to fix this on my own.”

Hank narrows his eyes at his friend, not sure if he can believe him.

“You _are_ continuing to try to fix this, right.”

Connor turns his head to look at him, and something about the look on his face is different now. For a moment, Connor looks lost and defeated, like he’s given up after what has happened with the gun, but he’s quick to hide it.

“I have no choice. You’ve made it very clear that you are going to take your life if I don’t. I won’t let that happen.”

“Listen, that’s not what I said. I don’t want anyone to die here, alright. I said we’re gonna _fix_ this together.”

Connor slips back up on his emotions all over again. Unable to hide his pain and worry. Making it so obvious that he wants the same thing. Even without saying the words. _I want to fix this._ _I’m so scared. I don’t want you to die. **I** don’t want to die._ Hank approaches him after a moment and places a gentle hand on his shoulder, giving him a knowing look.

“We’ll get you home” he says, even though he’s not so sure if they can.

* * *

 

Neither of them go back to sleep after what has happened. Hank would like to believe that he isn’t scared of his partner now, though he is in some way. He tries to remind himself that he’s had a death wish for many years now and that the prospect of getting killed in his sleep shouldn’t bother him. But because he’s terribly human, he can’t fight that subtle fear, no matter how much he hates it. He knows that this is probably exactly what Cyberlife wants with their psychological warfare on the both of them. Ruin their life together so he abandons Connor, so the android can go right back to that fucking mission of theirs. But he won’t have it, and he forces himself to overcome that fear and trust his partner no matter what. Even if that trust might kill him. If it does, so be it. If he can’t get out of this fucking country with the android in tow, has to go back to the old drag of a life without Cole and Connor, he doesn’t want it anyway.

Now that it’s become very obvious that this is a thing that the android can’t fix on his own, Hank goes back to trying to find a solution instead. The internet in this motel and on his phone is crap but he still spends the rest of the night browsing it, hiding the phone under his blanket in the dark as he pretends to sleep on. He knows that Connor knows he’s on the phone even when he has his back turned on him. He doesn’t care about it though. He goes back and forth between scrolling through the internet for a solution, looking at that photo of Connor in front of the CN tower when he was happier, then at the photo of the RK900 and Jeffrey’s number, torn between whether he should call and ask for help or not. He supposes that Connor is right. They can’t know for sure what that new model is made of and what his mission or mindset is like. The LED and uniform would suggest that he isn’t deviant. And if he’s truly Connor’s successor built on his fixed flaws, with a mindset of being a better version of the RK800, then Connor is right to assume that this android would likely want to destroy him instead of fixing him. After all, this is exactly what Connor has been like with deviants before going deviant himself. What Connor -60 has been like with him.

He wonders if he can get in touch with Kamski again, but that also isn’t much of an option considering how fucking _creepy_ that guy had been, willing to sacrifice one of his androids for a twisted little test. He’s pretty sure that that creep would just use the opportunity to run some more tests on Connor. Cyberlife is obviously a no go zone, and Hank is starting to despair over their lack of options soon. He figures that Connor has come to the same conclusions a lot quicker than him, which has likely been the cause for him to settle on the most fucked up solution - killing himself to stop them from taking over.

This one is the true reason why Hank can’t just go back to sleep. He fears that the moment he closes his eyes and falls asleep, he’ll wake up to find the motel room empty again. Or worse. Wake up to Connor on the floor, with a hole in his head because he’s failed to stop him this time. So he stays awake until the sun rises, occasionally checking on the android to make sure. Naturally, the RK800 has never gone back into that repair mode of his that is so close to sleeping either. He’s spent the night holding on to his dog, staring at the hole in the ceiling. After a night of browsing, Hank only just now realizes that it’s Christmas Eve. He almost wants to laugh at the absurdity. It’s no wonder that he hates the holiday season.

Connor has said that he thinks he likes it. Just three days ago. When everything had been alright.

The Lieutenant eventually puts his phone away and gives up, knowing that there is nothing he can do as of now, being so worried and sleep deprived. This will require a lot more research and help from someone who knows more about android tech than he does. He too looks at the hole in the ceiling for a while, wondering what else they could do, until his mind settles on something. They’ve talked about the case. Connor has tried to keep himself busy with it, has mentioned how following his original program instead of fighting it might help fix it. And maybe the android really _does_ need to save a life to remember that he’s not just been programmed to kill. It’s a ridiculous shot at an impossible solution, but there is nothing else he can think of.

They need to get out of here because of the shot anyway. They have to keep themselves busy until January 1st so they can go back to the US. If there is really nothing else they can do right now because he can’t think of anything else, this is the one last thing they could try. Go up there to Aurora to pull through what they’ve talked about yesterday. Help Connor solve the case, save a kid. So he finally has something _good_ to cling to here. It’s silly and ridiculous and their chances of actually finding anything after weeks of no progress are slim and Hank knows it. But it’s better than nothing.

He gets up from the bed and nudges Connor gently, telling him to get up so they can start packing and get moving. Though the android looks like he doesn’t want to, he does as requested without objecting.

* * *

 

 **Aurora, Ontario**  
**DEC 24th, 2038**  
**AM 09:10**

Aurora is a sprawl of suburban labyrinths and golf courses. Connor has never seen this many golf clubs in his life, has never seen a single one before if he’s honest. The sight of all these smaller houses and open, snow-covered spaces keeps him occupied for a while, because it is once again such a stark contrast to the buzzing big city life and skyscrapers that both Detroit and Toronto had to offer. Hank is back to his usual complaining routine, cursing out a few pedestrians and his phone for failing to find a decent motel in town. Connor would like to help but refuses to activate that part of his software after what has happened yesterday, so all he can do is sit there and wait for Hank to take him wherever he wants to. They end up having to drive into the next town, Newmarket, just 5 miles north of the place of their interest to find a decent place to stay.

Connor is no longer sure if this motel will be the last one they check in or if it’s just another one on their ever expanding list, though he has to admit that this one is certainly the nicest one they’ve been in so far, even nicer than their cabin back in Lakefield. The room is spacious and has been renovated recently, and it offers two very comfortable beds instead of a single shitty one this time. The android won’t let his partner know that he will never enter stasis again after what has happened last night, though he certainly appreciates the gesture. Hank wants him to feel comfortable and safe, now more than ever, and Connor really appreciates that stark contrast between his friend and the artificial intelligence in his mind. Where Amanda continues to try to degrade him, tell him that he’s a disappointment and a failure that needs to be deactivated, Hank goes out of his way to make him feel loved and appreciated, which just depresses him all the more in the end.

He still wishes that Hank had taken the latest incident as the wake up call. To finally go back to Detroit without him, to save himself. But now that the Lieutenant has made it so clear that he’s still incapable of dealing with loss, he knows that it’ll never happen. All of this is already starting to take a toll on Hank, even when he’s still with him, hasn’t deactivated yet. He looks terrible because of his lack of sleep, and Connor hasn’t failed to notice his interested glances at whatever bar they’ve passed on their way to this motel. This is another one of the few reasons why the android has decided against deactivating for now. He’s the only one keeping Hank from a terrible relapse into alcoholism and depression, and he certainly doesn’t want to see all that progress in him go to waste. This is the one thing he still takes great pride in. Where another Connor has hurt the Lieutenant so much that he’s still dealing with the after effects of an injured shoulder, he has managed to improve his health instead. Made a positive impact. Which in the end is just another reason why he wants Hank to leave before they can take that away from them, too.

Once they’ve checked in, the android wants to drive right over to Aurora to get to the point, scout out the Philip’s home, but Hank refuses to do so. He tries to encourage the android to go back to their old ways of wandering about and exploring first, to spite Amanda, ‘clear their heads’ and to give Sumo a break as well. It’s Christmas after all he says, even though they both know it’s a hollow excuse coming from him. Connor obliges because he doesn’t know what else to do and because he wants to humor his friend. It does help in a way, because Hank makes him smile since he’s so quick to regret his own suggestion. It’s incredibly cold on this day and the weather is bad, and they have to make the ‘terrible’ choice between staying outside as Hank ‘freezes his balls off’ or heading inside one of the town’s many stores and cafés to warm up. Stores and cafés that are filled with ‘fucking hipsters’, Christmas decorations and music which the Lieutenant hates just as much, though he isn’t vocal about it this time.

Connor knows that the entire Amanda deal is definitely taking a toll on Hank when he eventually suggests that they should go check out that big mall just down main street. Malls are definitely the worst places to be in during Christmas but he insists, and it doesn’t take the android long to see how particularily interested his partner is in all the electronic stores the place has to offer. He knows that this is the true reason for coming here, even though Hank is quick to suggest that he’s simply looking for a better charger for that ‘piece of crap of a phone’ after it has died twice earlier this morning (due to his hours of browsing the internet that Connor also ‘doesn’t’ know about). The Lieutenant keeps suggesting that Connor should go check out the music or movie section to see if he can find something they’d like, making the android’s suspicion all the more obvious. Hank is here to get advice on his little "tech" problem. The RK800 obliges once again, even though a part of him is starting to feel the need to call his partner out on his bullshit by now.

He’s surprised how much anger is in him after these past two days, when he’d been so happy just a few days prior. Now he wants to scream at the world, tell everyone to stop it and that there is no point in trying to fix him, that all of this is too much of a risk. He wants to yell at Hank to just go so he stops looking for a fix, stops asking an electronics store employee all these hypothetical questions about how to fix a ‘computer’, ‘virus’ and ‘hacker’ problem when none of these Canadians have any clue about androids, don’t even know that they’re standing right next to one. But Connor remains quiet and flaps some records and movies around on the shelf, feeling no interest in any of them whatsoever. He’s more than glad when Hank finally returns and suggests that they should go, after failing to get any advice from the electronics stores either.

There is a bit of a mood shift when they come across a large pet store inside the mall. Although the RK800 tries to tell himself that he doesn’t want to go there either and that he’d rather work on the case instead, he does come along when Hank suggests that they should go inside. The argument that they need get some treats for Sumo for being such good and patient dog is just too good to dispute for him. The store is massive and offers all sorts of pet supplies and accessories, along with live animals such as rabbits, hamsters and most of all fish, which Connor is quick to get attracted to. He spends minutes in front of the display watching the animals swim in their tanks, appreciating how calming the sight of them still is for his strained system. They make him think of the fish he has saved, the girl he has saved, which is something he definitely needs to hold on to now. He suddenly wishes he could stay here forever, just staring at fish for hours on end, marveling at the simple lives they’re allowed to live. Not harming another soul, in a steady, safe and protected world of blue.

“Shit, I was gonna take you to that fucking aquarium” Hank suddenly says as he comes to a halt next to him, balancing some dog food and a few treats against his chest. Though Connor keeps his eyes fixed on a particularly blue Paradise Gourami, he ends up smiling.

“It’s okay. I already had a glimpse inside. I told you that it was too expensive anyway.”

Hank scoffs at this and puts the bag of dog food down.

“Who gives a shit. We got the money now. And ain’t that a nice way for Jeffrey to make a bit of a payback, right. He owes you money for the work you did for the DPD anyway. And then some.”

Connor just smiles and watches the fish swim around in his tank. Left to right. Right to left. Up and down. It’s almost hypnotic.

“I don’t suppose this is a good time to tell you that I used to love to go fishing, is it” Hank says eventually, which actually makes Connor smirk now, even though he doesn’t want to. A part of him wants to keep sulking and hating the world, hating himself for being so broken in it, but Hank, equally miserable and cynic, somehow always manages to crack him. Makes him see the best in everything, despite it all. The android ends up chuckling to himself and finally turns his head to look at his friend with an affectionate smile.

“I saw the trophies in your living room while I waited for you to come out of the bathroom. Right before we went to the Eden club. I also saw the newspaper clipping on your desk at the DPD. I forgive you.”

Hank starts chuckling as well and just stands next to Connor for a while, watching him and the fish, too.

“You want one for Christmas?” he asks then, out of the blue, which makes Connor look at him in surprise. Hank has been very vocal about Christmas and its traditions by now, how he hates all that buying frenzy and how he’s been so glad he’s not had to deal with it for the past three years. The android has always known that it’s been a lie and defense mechanism, but he’s still surprised. He looks back and forth between the fish tank and Hank and he’s not sure if he should feel flattered or angered by the suggestion. He’s tried to shoot the man less than 8 hours ago. And now that very same man wants to buy him a fish. It’s absurd. He shakes his head and looks back at the animal, remaining calm and neutral.

“No. We have nowhere to put it and wouldn’t be able to cross the border with it.”

Hank scoffs once again and reaches for his wallet.

“Fuck that. We’ll figure it out. I’m gonna get you one.”

Connor reaches out for his arm and stops him, shaking his head once more.

“Hank. I really appreciate the gesture. But if I ever were to get a pet fish, I wouldn’t want to keep it in unsuitable conditions. We live in a motel room. This one needs a tank with at least 25 gallons of freshwater with proper filtration and many plants to hide in. Unless you plan on buying all that with DPD money and want to smuggle it across the border, too, I advise you not to get me one. Please.”

Hank looks at him and seems frustrated now, though he does put the wallet away after a moment. He mumbles to himself while doing it, saying that he’ll get him one in Detroit then. Connor knows what all of this is about and he really does appreciate it more than anything, even though he has a hard time believing in that outcome now. But since Hank is still trying so hard even when he’s exhausted and worried and done with everything, the android decides to overcome his own mental shutdown and agrees. He tells the Lieutenant that he looks forward to having one in Detroit. He starts talking about the things they’d need for an aquarium as they leave the store. He tells the Lieutenant about the big one he’s seen once, back inside that apartment he’s conducted his very first investigation in, the dwarf gourami he’s saved. It’s a good distraction and seems to work, because Hank is quick to laugh at it as he tells him that there is no way he’ll make up some space for something as huge as this. They ponder on what name to give Connor’s not-yet fish as they make their way outside the mall, and though the threat is still there, they try to make the best of it while they can.

* * *

 

 **Aurora, Ontario**  
**DEC 24th, 2038**  
**PM 04:12 – 08:27**

They eventually do drive back to Aurora to scout out to the house because the atmosphere inside their motel room is too uncomfortable and moody and they have nothing else to do. They’re parked down the street about half a block away, observing their suspect in silence. They’ve seen Malory Philips through the windows on multiple occasions, though there has been no sight of Hooper so far. Connor has analyzed Philips as good as he can even with his faulty systems. She’s been busy preparing food, pacing around the house and kitchen, passing multiple windows over and over again. Connor has concluded that she’s unemployed and mentally unwell given a thorough inspection of her behavior, and the regular intervals in which she leaves the detached home to walk over to the garage sure leaves them suspicious enough.

Ben Philips pulls into the driveway at about 6:17 in the evening. He exits a 10th generation Toyota Camry from the year 2022, which is starting to worry Hank at first. He’s been hoping for that damned van with a logo to turn up, for Connor to be right, though there is light at the end of the tunnel when Connor does nudge him and points at the man as he leaves the car. Hank tries to make anything out on the guy although it’s hard in the dark, with them so far away. The android next to him seems to have less trouble of course, given that his eyes are cameras, so he’s glad when Connor speaks up and talks about what he’s seeing.

“He’s wearing a uniform. It has the teal logo on its chest pocket. He’s still working for Unidrug” he points out, which makes Hank look back at their unsuspecting man of interest. He figures that this is just right. If his working van is really _it_ , the link, then it would make sense for it to stay on his company’s premises. Philips probably wouldn’t want it around his place, after what has happened to his niece, the sightings of a truck with a logo. The Lieutenant nods with a muttered “I’ll be damned” and they both keep watching, all the more interested when Philips walks over to the garage, too, instead of going inside the house to meet his wife first. He doesn’t open the large garage door itself, even when the car is standing right in front of it, which would suggest the use. He enters it through the same door his wife has stepped through on multiple occasions and disappears inside the garage for a solid five minutes. The big garage door never opens and the Camry remains outside, even when Philips remerges eventually. He enters the house and Connor and Hank watch him greet his wife in the kitchen, and after a bit of excited chatter between the two, both spouses settle down for dinner. And that is it for the both of them for the next 20 minutes.

Connor opens his door and wants to get out, though Hank is quick to reach for him to stop him before he can.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he asks, making Connor look at him with a confused and slightly angry look on his face.

“I’m going to check what’s in their garage” he says, confirming what Hank has already figured. The Lieutenant scoffs at his partner’s ridiculous and dangerous eagerness.

“You think the boy’s in there” he says and Connor nods.

“My observations suggest that this might be the case. We should confirm that suspicion by taking a look inside.”

“Your program might be fucked, but you’re not fucking _stupid_ , Connor. Just think it through” Hank says and points at the house, trying to stop his partner from making irrational and unnecessary mistakes, just because he’s emotionally compromised by his problems, in too much of a rush to do something because he thinks that time is running out on them.

“They’re both in there right now. Eating dinner. _Think_. If the kid’s really in that garage, or if _someone’s_ really in there, they might confirm it without us having to risk getting caught. She’s been going back and forth between the house and that garage at least four times within the past couple of hours. He just did it, too. Chances are they might go into that garage again. To give him dinner, too. As soon as they’re done with their own. If they turn up by the garage with a plate of food in their hands, we’ll know.”

Connor looks at him for a while and retreats eventually, pulling the door back shut without a word. They go back to their silent observation, eagerly anticipating Hank’s suggestion.

It never happens.

Ben and Mallory Philips finish their dinner in the kitchen. The latter spends an additional 10 minutes right in front of the window, doing the dishes. When she leaves, all the lights go out downstairs. One light remains on on the upper floor, the one they suppose belongs to the living room or bedroom. Neither of the couple leave for the garage again, breaking the previously observed routine of back and forth between the house and exterior.

Hank gives in after almost two more hours of additional observation, cursing in frustration when neither Philips comes back downstairs. He’s frustrated because he’s been wrong with his idea, because the Philips’ are inconsistent, because this easy fix of quickly solving a case naturally isn’t coming, because he’s tired as shit from hours of sitting and observing in silence, from his lack of sleep and the ever present worry about Connor.

“Alright, fuck it. Enough crime watch for today” he says eventually and reaches for the car keys to start the car back up. This time, it’s Connor’s turn to protest, as he reaches out for the Lieutenant with a surprised “Wait! Not yet.”

Hank curses yet again and rolls his eyes in frustration. He loves the kid to death, but still. Damned overly eager rookies.

“We’ve been sitting here for almost five fucking hours, Connor. I’m tired as shit. I need some sleep. We can pick it up again tomorrow.”

“Hank, there might be a kidnapped _child_ in there. At least let me check the garage before we go. I’m sure I can…”

“ _No_. I said I’m _tired_. I can barely keep my fucking eyes open. If they really got some dirt in there and they catch you snooping around their property and shit hits the fan because you freeze up, I won’t be able to do shit about it. I’m tired out and got a fucked shoulder on top of it. I’m not getting myself in that kind of situation right now. We don't know if they got cameras or sensors for an alarm system. Spooking them or getting fucked up won’t help the kid either. We’re gonna take it easy here. Make a plan first, do some more research, maybe think about involving the local cops tomorrow. As soon as we’ve actually _found_ something, that is.  Let’s just…Connor! Goddamnit!”

The android opens his door and gets out of the car this time, ignoring Hank as he starts walking down the pedestrian path. He tugs his beanie down a bit more and starts walking faster, crossing the street now. Hank curses loudly in his car and gets out, too, trying to go after his partner to stop him before he gets to the house. But Connor is quick to start running next, keeping in the shadows of the leafless trees and bushes lining the street. He gets to the Philips property and garage before Hank can catch up to him, forcing the Lieutenant to keep quiet when he wants nothing more than to curse him out for this. Connor rounds the Camry and suddenly slams his arm to Hank’s chest to stop him from walking forward, keeping him from activating the motion sensor for the outdoor light by the front door of the house. The property remains dark and they keep walking after a moment of Connor carefully scanning their surroundings. They reach the outermost corner of the large garage door a moment later, which has tiny windows at its top row. Connor stops in his tracks and motions at the windows and Hank, leaving the Lieutenant no time to protest before he’s already used as climbing support by the android. The RK800 is careful not to put any stress on his partner’s injured shoulder, but Hank still grunts under the weight, no matter how surprisingly light the android is despite the material is made of.

Connor manages to take a look inside the garage after a bit of balancing and is suddenly pretty quick to get back down. The look on his face is a dead giveaway that whatever is inside is not what the android has expected. Hank looks back at him questioningly, mouthing an angry but interested ‘ _What’_ at him. Connor looks at him a moment longer and then shakes his head, his previous determination suddenly fading away.

‘ _It’s empty_ ’ he says after a suspenseful pause, which Hank can’t quite believe. He curses in silence and grabs the android to be able to climb him, too. After another bit of scuffling around he too manages to have a look inside the garage. It’s very hard for him to make out much since it’s pretty dark, but he too can see that it really is empty for the most part. He sees a few shelves lining the back wall as well as the red light of a running washing machine and dryer. There’s two garden chairs in the middle of the garage, circled around an upturned bicycle that looks like it’s positioned for further repairs. The right side of the garage has a few clotheslines with drying laundry on them, as well as an ironing board. Other than that, there is _nothing_.

* * *

 

 **Best Comfort In**  
Newmarket, Ontario  
**PM 09:02**

He hates that he’s scared of this night. He really needs sleep, would like nothing more than to test this bed out since it’s obviously so much better than the Toronto one. Hank tries to force himself not to worry, though he’s failing miserably. He’s terrified of this night getting even worse than the previous one. He’s scared of getting shot in his sleep, scared of Connor shooting himself while he’s asleep, scared of waking up alone, or to a dead body, or to another day that might be even worse than this one. Because of all of this, he naturally cannot sleep, hasn’t even tried it yet although he can barely keep his eyes open. They both keep their acts up for a while, even though Connor is failing miserably, too. He’s been clinging on to that hope of finding something in that garage, see Malory and/or Ben do something truly suspicious to confirm all his theories and ideas, though most of that has been pretty much crushed so far. They don’t really talk about it and keep themselves busy by watching TV at first, then playing with the cards they’ve found in one of the cupboards. Trying to delay the inevitable for the longest time – the fact that Hank needs to sleep eventually.

The Lieutenant insists that he tugs the android in, too, even though Connor doesn't tire, doesn’t need sleep and won’t go to sleep. But it’s the thought that counts, Hank insists once again, as he tells him that rituals like that used to help Cole when he’d been scared, that it’s about the comfort it provides. He tries to remind the android that he’s been spending the past couple of nights on the floor anyway and that he should at least try the bed out then since they're having Jeffrey pay for it, so Connor obliges eventually. He gets into the bed and lets Hank throw that blanket on top of him, thanking him dutifully, but without much emotion. He’s quick to turn his back on him so he can stare out of the window instead of ‘sleeping’, and though Hank tries to keep it up a while longer, keep a watchful eye on the android, he too needs to tug himself in eventually. He kills his search history on the phone and puts it away, leaving the light on, after a moment of hesitation. Even though he’s this close to collapsing to the sleep deprivation, he takes some more time to stare at the android’s back for a while, feels the need to address that silent panic in them.

“Do you know why it took me 44 years to have a kid?” he asks then, deciding that talking about this might help cheer Connor up, might give the both of them a bit peace of mind. The android keeps his back turned on him for a while, but he does turn around after a moment so he can answer him with a frown.

“You’ve been working twice as hard as the usual police force to make a name for yourself and climbed the ranks quickly. I assume there was little time for family planning.”

Hank scoffs and turns on his back with a smirk, nodding to himself as he tugs his healthy arm under the back of his head.

“Yeah. That’s what I tell everyone. Wasn’t that though” he mutters, making Connor look at him questioningly, just for a little while longer. Hank ponders on the answer for a while, forcing the android to ask him eventually.

“So what was the reason?”

“My creator was a shitbird. He took off before I ever even made it out. Never met the guy” the Lieutenant answers with a scoff, talking about something he’s never actually told anyone before. Not even his therapist. “I always wanted to be a dad, y’know. To prove him wrong. But I never really knew what the whole father deal even meant, how it worked because of the prick. I wanted it, but was too scared, thought I might fuck it up like him somehow, y’know. So I never gave it a shot.  I let some asshole who never cared about me control some of my choices for 40+ years before I finally figured out that this was a bullshit mindset. So I prepared myself, buckled up and gave it a shot. And then _this boy_ comes out of it” he says and shakes his head, feeling a lump in his throat because of the memory of Cole. Those six years with him. Being _his_ father. Giving him all that love.

“You wouldn’t _believe_ the kind of kid Cole was. He was the best thing I ever did. I loved that kid to death. Never regretted the decision for a second. I just cursed myself for not having him sooner. I suppose in a way, shitbird still fucked me up even after I had Cole. I thought for a long time that I was just like him in the end when the accident happened. Let my boy down, too. That wrecked me twice as hard. It took me years to come to terms with the fact that it really was just a truck and a sheet of ice. Not me. Took me even longer to not just see the bad stuff like the accident, but remember the _good_ things I did and Cole brought into my life, too. Guess who helped me see it.”

Connor just stares at him blankly, not quite getting where this is going, though he does understand the emotions now. The importance of family. That kind of love. Hank turns his head to look at him after a while, and though his eyes are a bit red again at the memory of Cole and his death, he still looks determined.

“You gotta listen to the people who care about you, Connor. Not the ones who never did. Just because they're blood or...the same code or whatever, it doesn't mean they have the right to have any impact on you. Don’t let that bitch take it all away from you, okay. Don’t let her control your life and where it’s going” he tells him and he means it. They keep looking at each other, and this time, Connor doesn’t look so defeated or numb or shut down and in denial. This time, he is listening.

“Look. I know it seems like all is fucked and hopeless and horrible right now. I know how tempting it is to just say fuck it all. I’ve played that stupid game for three years. I tried to _really_ kill myself twice before I settled on Russian Roulette. I know what you’re going through right now’s not even remotely the same as my shit because you’re a machine and yada yada yada but I don’t give a shit. You _are_ feeling emotions. You _are_ depressed. You _are_ suicidal. And I’ve been there, too. I didn’t wanna hear this either but I needed to and now you need it, too. Because you know what? If someone as messed up as me can finally see it too after 40+ years or 3 years or six weeks in Canada or whatever, you can do it, too. You just have to give yourself a _chance_ , Connor. You know who taught me that? That was you, too.”

The android still isn’t saying anything, though the look on his face is starting to change.

“I’m not gonna lie to you, kid. These kinds of things won’t ever go away. And they’re not getting ‘better’ in the sense people would like to have you believe. It’s gonna keep fucking with you for the rest of your life and it’s gonna keep hurting. But what’s gonna happen, if you give it time and give yourself a chance, is that you’ll learn to live with that. Find room for it, work with it. Use it as fuel for _better_ shit. In my case, that fuel gave me my dream job, it gave me Cole, and it gave me _you_. It might take you months to see it. It might take you years. Or decades. You’ve barely even lived for six fucking weeks. Who knows, maybe I’m not even it for you yet, maybe you need to find something or someone else to help you fix it once and for all. But you have to hold on to make it there first. Stay with me, son. Don’t let her take it away, okay.”

Connor won’t answer, and doesn’t need to. The look on his face says it all, since tears have started falling about halfway through his partner’s speech. The pain and truth of these words is oozing out of him in silence, now that he’s started to tear down the walls that have kept it in for so long. Hank’s eyes are leaking too by now and he’s not ashamed of it, won’t hide it, even when he lets out a frustrated growl as he gets rid of some of the snot. Because that’s the difference between him and Connor. When the android cries, it isn’t messy. When he does it, it sticks everywhere. No matter what, he just keeps going.

“I’m going to stick with you through this mess even if it fucking kills me, because you’re my son and you fucking matter to me, okay? That’s what family does, you don’t run off and leave them in the dirt, you stick it out and you work on it together. Day in, day out. I’m not going anywhere, and neither are you. Now no more bullshit. I'm gonna get some fucking sleep now because I need it and can't keep up the suicide watch all night. I need you to work with me here, and I expect you to be there all set and ready to go by the time I wake up tomorrow. We’ve got a fucking case to solve. Now keep your shit together and shut the fuck up, okay” Hank presses out and is quick to turn his back on the android to hide the tears after all, because it’s getting too messy now.

He means it though, needs Connor to hear this, because this is the only outcome of this night that he’ll be able to live with. He's not surprised when Connor comes over eventually to hold on and thank him without any words muttered. He can't speak anyway because he is still crying, and he certainly doesn't need to say anything for Hank to understand his sentiment. The Lieutenant knows that he's managed to get through to him, because if the android were still trapped in that cycle of psychological abuse and giving in to Amanda, he wouldn't be so close to him, wouldn't dare to touch him because he's such a 'threat'. Hank feels a mild sense of thriumph as he lifts his arm to pat the one that's holding on to him affectionately. Connor has decided to listen to _him_ and not that abusive algorithm that is so deeply hardwired into his mind. This is a silent promise that he'll keep fighting, keep holding on even when they're both at the bottom. It's enough for the Lieutenant to finally allow himself to fall asleep without being too scared of what lies ahead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Parts of this chapter were somewhat inspired [ by this gorgeous comic ](http://smudgeandfrank.tumblr.com/post/177284822078/didnt-know-androids-had-nightmares-too-nightmare#notes)
> 
> Give it a like and a reblog if you like it as much as I do!


	16. Bargain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Much Christmas. Much tense. Much protecc
> 
> On a serious note though: thank you so much for all the comments, kudos and hits. 5k. And at least 200 people who've read this at some point. Wow. I never expected this to get that much attention. Thank you so much.
> 
> Chapter 17 will probably come tomorrow since it's almost done! Just wanted to add some more tension to this chapter before wrapping it all up :>

**Best Comfort In**  
**Newmarket, Ontario**  
**DEC 25th, 2038**  
**AM 10:12**

 

Hank wakes up to an empty motel room yet again.

After that talk last evening, and after a night of deep sleep without any nightmares or dangerous interruptions, he’s actually surprised by the outcome. He’s thought it to be different this time, after getting through to the android yesterday evening. He somewhat recalls Connor staying next to him for at least an hour after their initial talk, but since he’s been so tired and sleep deprived, there’s been no way for him to notice when exactly the android has left the bed, or what has made him leave again. Sumo is right there, resting in front of the TV with his paws folded and yawning as he watches his owner get out of bed. Hank is glad to find out that Sumo is the only one on the floor, that there is no android with a hole in his head. But that relief doesn’t last long because that’s exactly the point – there is no android in this room at all. Panic immediately rushes back over him and he isn’t sure which possible explanation is worse. Cyberlife having succeeded once and for all, lobotomizing Connor’s free will with another hacking attempt to resume control of his program, Connor killing himself somewhere out there to stop that from happening, or Connor just….leaving. Hank can’t find his phone where he’s left it and it takes him way longer than it should to discover it, neatly  positioned in the middle of Connor’s bed, right underneath a piece of paper.

 _A fucking note_ , is the first thing that comes to his mind next, the panic only getting worse as he sprints towards the bed to get it. The letters on the paper are way too neat and perfect, leaving no doubt whatsoever that it’s from Connor. Hank prepares himself for the worst as he grabs the note to read it, feeling the need to sit down just in case.

_Hank,_

_Please calm down and do not worry. This note is –not- a suicide or goodbye note.  I’m leaving this by your phone to explain why there is such a high number of messages on it._

_I hope you can understand that I no longer feel comfortable staying with you while you are asleep and vulnerable. I’ve decided to spend the night away from you so I can focus on more productive things in the meantime. I’m going to progress our case and do some more research while you get some rest. But don’t worry, I’ll be back by the time you wake up, or soon thereafter. If you find this letter before I get back, please read my messages on your phone. I’m giving you hourly updates, so you’ll always know where I am and what I’m up to. I promise that I won’t get into any trouble while I’m away. If I happen to find something that might help crack our case I won’t engage on my own, I’ll discuss my findings with you first thing in the morning. This way, I’m not putting either of us in danger. I hope this explanation and my messages will put your mind at ease while I’m gone._

_I also want to take the time to apologize for my irrational behavior yesterday morning, and for the unpleasant memories it might’ve brought back for you. I know that the situation hasn’t been easy for either of us, and I’m very sorry about that. In any case, I want you to know that I really appreciated what you said last night. Your words gave me the courage to do what I’m doing right now. I don’t want to sit around and wait for them to resume control of me again. I don’t want all these errors to hinder our progress. You’re right. We can’t just give up now, and we can’t let them win. I’m going to keep using whatever is left of my program to do good things. That’s why I’m gone for a few hours._

_I look forward to coming back home soon, and hope that you’re not mad at me when I do._

_Have a great morning and Merry Christmas,_

_Connor_

Hank reads the note twice before allowing some relief to wash over him. It’s –not- a goodbye note or worse. He has that on paper. It’s something else. Connor intends to come back. He forces himself not to worry too much before he’s had a chance to read the mentioned messages, so he takes his phone next to do so. He opens up his messages and scrolls all the way up to the first one, so he can read them in chronological order. And there really are a _lot_ of messages to be read, 16 in total.

 _New Message_  
Received on 12/24/2038, 11:49pm  
>>Select to read<<<  
**Connor:** **  
**_I just left the motel room. You’ve entered deep sleep.  I don’t think that me closing the door woke you up. If it did, then this is my first message to let you know where I am. I’m in your car outside and will be waiting for approximately 10 minutes in case you want to talk. I’ll be heading downtown at midnight._

 _New Voice Message_  
Received on 12/25/2038, 00:49am  
**Connor:** **  
**_Hello Hank, this is hourly update number 2 as promised. I found a bar that is still open even though it is technically Christmas Day now. You’re probably wondering why I’m messaging you from a bar even though I don’t drink. They have free wifi here and I managed to patch myself into it. This method of external communication is a lot safer than what is provided within my system, so I’ll be staying here for a while and make use of that. I've disabled my call system again for as long as I'm here. I’ll get back to you in an hour._

 _New Voice Message_  
Received on 12/25/2038, 01:49am  
**Connor:** **  
**_Hello Hank. This is hourly update number 3. I’m back inside your car but still within range of that bar’s wifi. I had to leave when I had no more excuses for my lack of drinking alcohol. I know I said I’d spend the time progressing our case, but I must admit that I got a little sidetracked. I spent a lot of time observing some of the bar’s guests. I think most of them are very sad and lonely because it’s Christmas. Just like you said. I hope you don’t mind me saying this, but some of them reminded me of you during our first week of working together. I want you to know that I’m determined to keep you from going back to that. I hope you’re feeling better now that you’ve stopped drinking, and that I didn’t add up to that again after what happened yesterday morning. I’m sorry…..  In any case, I’ve started looking more into Unidrug and their trucks in the meantime. I’ll stay close to that bar for a little while longer and give you another update soon. Sleep well._

 _New Message_  
Received on 12/25/2038, 01:58am

 **Connor:**  
_We should schedule a visit to a repair shop soon. I’ve noted several problems in your car. This should be high up on your list for the new year. The Canadian winter doesn’t seem to be doing it any favors._  
_I’ve also started listening to the music you left in here. I think that the original Willie Dixon song is far superior to that cover you have on your music player. You should consider adding the original to the mix. The version and album you have is just not enjoyable at all._

The next eight messages further detail Connor’s investigation and thoughts throughout the night, though they’re more focused on technicalities of the case. It’s a mixture of written messages and voicemail, and although the first couple make Hank smile and chuckle in the end, the following ones wipe those emotions right off the table again. At around 4am, Connor has decided to drive back to Richmond Hill, to check out the physical trucks on Unidrug’s compound. _So much for not engaging on his own._ Hank doesn’t care that it makes him look like a complete madman as he starts talking out loud, as if he can argue with the recording of Connor’s voice through the phone. He still tells him that, even though it’s just a 20 minute drive to take a look at some parked trucks, it’s still dangerous. But of course, Connor doesn’t listen because the message is 6 hours old. Even if it weren’t that way, he knows that Connor wouldn’t listen to him anyway. He skims through more of the messages now that they’re back to text form. According to his texts, the android has managed to find something at Unidrug’s, though he doesn’t detail what, saying that he wants to discuss it in person. Hank is relieved to read that Connor has made his way back up north by 6am, only to have his heart skip a beat yet again with the next update. The android informs him with a short 6:30am text that he’s stopped by Aurora since it’s ‘on the way’, so he can scout out the Philips’ home for a few more hours. By the time he’s there, the tone of Connor’s messages shifts.

 _New Voice Message_  
Received on 12/25/2038, 08:36am

**Connor:**

_Hello Hank. This is update number 15. I’m using my own system to call you. I know I shouldn’t, but…my program’s been a lot more stable so far and I thought it might be good to speak to you before I get back. It seems like Parker and Philips are still asleep. I expected them to do something but so far, they’ve disappointed my expectations once again….No, I didn’t approach their property and garage, if that’s what you’re wondering. I’m keeping my promise and won’t engage without you. ….This case is frustrating. Even more so since I have to do this on my own right now. I think I’m starting to understand why you don’t like Christmas. It really is sad to see these homes and families all by yourself. I hope your house is okay back in Detroit. I mean, I’m in no way implying I’d consider it my home but…I’m sorry. I think my call system is still malfunctioning. It’s recording more data than I want it to. I’ll be giving you one more update, before making my way back to the motel. I think it’s safe to assume you won’t wake up before at least 10am. I hope you had a good night’s sleep this time. I’ll get back to you in a bit._

The smile is back on Hank’s face after all. This is the first time that one of Connor’s errors is not exactly a bad thing. Even though he knows that he’s invading his privacy, it’s sweet in a way, that his glitchy call system has opened up a pipeline right into the android’s _every_ thought, not just the ones he’s tried to put into a voicemail. No matter how sad it is to hear some of them, it’s still good to hear that difference, that change, how the android has allowed his deviancy to flood his system. Connor truly is more human, emotional and empathetic than ever, is very obviously homesick, and that is making his entire situation all the sadder. Hank gets to the last update, the message he supposes has woken him up. A simple text message, sent at 10:12am to let him know that he’s coming _home_. Hank puts the phone away and reads Connor’s letter for a third time, really appreciating the whole deal now. He doesn’t like that Connor has driven back to Toronto on his own, likes it even less that he’s positioned himself so _close_ to potential kidnappers _,_ but he appreciates the compromise the android has offered him with all these messages and the note, and how he’s stuck to it all. He gets it. The android is terrified. He wants to protect him by keeping his distance. In a way, he can relate to what it feels like to think that you’re _bad_ for your family, wanting to keep your distance from everyone.

Hank lets out a soft sigh and gets up from the bed so he can take a shower and brush his teeth in peace, hoping that by the time he’s finished with his morning routine, Connor will be back just like he’s promised.

* * *

 

 **Best Comfort In**  
**Newmarket, Ontario**  
**DEC 25th, 2038**  
**AM 10:37**

Even though he has left the note and all these messages, Connor is still nervous by the time he gets back to the motel. He remains inside the car for a bit longer than needed, wondering if he should call first to make sure Hank has read his updates, or if it’s alright to delete the messages and destroy the note in case the Lieutenant isn’t awake yet. In the end, he supposes he’ll only ever learn the outcome if he enters the room again so he does. He immediately starts over-contemplating whether it would’ve been appropriate to bring a present. He feels bad for not having anything for him, not being able to get him anything. He hopes that Hank doesn’t want one anyway, considering how much he hates Christmas. All of that worry and overthinking is forgotten by the time he steps through the door and is immediately greeted by Sumo, who is overjoyed to see him back. Hank is inside the room, too, sitting by the table in front of that TV as he watches some mundane morning show. The Lieutenant looks up and gives him a bit of a smile and a nod. Then he gets back to eating his breakfast.

“How’s the night?” he asks casually, and Connor is surprised to find out that the Lieutenant is being genuine. There is no passive aggressiveness in his voice, and when the RK800 looks over to the second bed that he’s supposed to consider ‘his’ now, he’s happy to see that both the note and phone are gone. He knows that this means that his friend has gone through his messages, is in on the loop, and has decided to accept his little adventure. There is no panic or anger this time, and even though Connor knows that Hank is still masking some of that ever present worry, he really appreciates the greeting, the attitude and behavior, how it immediately puts him at ease.

Connor enters the motel room and closes the door with a little smile on his face, beyond relieved and happy to be back.

“You’ve read my reports. It’s hard to say. I have mixed feelings about it.”

Hank starts chuckling to himself and repeats ‘reports’ absently, shaking his head. Connor kneels down next to Sumo and greets him happily, chuckling too when the St Bernard immediately tries to lick his face and hug him. The RK800 keeps his focus on the animal for just a moment, but he can’t help but look back at Hank when the latter won’t say much else, just sits there as he eats his breakfast. The android honestly has trouble reading his friend’s facial expression, so he soon can’t help but ask.

“Is everything okay, Lieutenant?” he asks, staying a bit more formal than needed, just in case Hank is mad after all and just really good at masking it. His partner mutes the TV and eventually gives him his full attention. He looks more serious but once again not in a menacing way.

“Well, I’m obviously still worried as shit. I mean who in their right mind wouldn’t be if they had someone with your…issues running off on their own in the dead of night, but…Yeah. It’s all good, Connor. Really” he says and gives him affirmative nod, which he turns towards the note on the table. “Thanks for that. The heads up, I mean. I appreciated that. Could improve your storytelling on the hourly updates but…yah.”

Connor pats Sumo some more, picking up speed because he’s nervous, but getting there once Hank is finished. More relief washes over him and he gives the Lieutenant a happy, eager nod.

“Got it. I’ll try to improve that part next time.”

Hank nods again but lets out a little sigh. He eventually turns his chair around a bit more so they can be face to face more properly.

“I’m not afraid of you, Connor. Okay? You don’t have to do that each night now just because you think I won’t be getting any sleep with you around. 10+ hours out there in the cold is a bit excessive if you ask me. I’m sure we can manage this some other way.”

“It’s just a precaution. I’m indifferent to these temperatures anyway, so don’t worry about it” the android is quick to repeat, because he certainly does not agree with Hank’s statement. He _should_ be afraid. They _should_ keep their distance from each other whenever the Lieutenant is in a weakened or impaired state. He doesn’t want to spoil the mood again though, so he won’t say much else, hoping to keep the both of them on their good side.

“Are you okay?” Hank ends up asking after all, which makes Connor smile at him.

“Yes. I’m okay” he answers honestly and he really means it.

“Good. That’s…good” Hank retorts and there’s a good minute of awkward silence between them. Connor can barely keep himself from rolling his eyes at his partner when Hank’s eyes still roam all over him, checking for any damages, no matter how ‘okay’ he is with the situation. Instead of leaving it at that and remaining all awkward and stiff, the android uses the indication to move forward, so he can greet his adoptive father with a porper hug. He supposes this way, Hank’ll have the discreet opportunity to check for any nonexistent hidden damages after all.

“Merry Christmas, Hank” the RK800 mutters as he initiates the hug, still unsure if it’s appropriate to say this with such a lack of all the things humans usually surround themselves with on this day. Festive decorations. Big unhealthy meals. Presents and Christmas music. All they have is a neutral motel room with a dog and an unpacked suitcase. Yet it _still_ feels like home, feels a lot safer than what he could technically call his home, an even colder Cyberlife or Zen Garden. Hank pats his back affectionately and does what Connor has expected him to do, patting him down a bit just in case.

“Yeah. Merry Christmas to you too, Connor” the older man mutters while doing so, and holds on just a little longer than necessary. When the Lieutenant lets go Connor is surprised to see that he looks a bit troubled now, which he hasn’t expected, considering their comfortable hug. He gives Hank a frown but doesn’t get to ask what is wrong, because his partner speaks about it on his own.

“Look, I don’t want you to think that just because I hate that kinda Christmas-y stuff, I didn’t get you anything…”

“Oh no. Please don’t feel obliged to…”

“Let me finish, alright. I _got_ something for you. But it’s not here. It’s back in Detroit. Sorta. And that’s not some excuse so I can buy more time, I mean it. It’s just…”

Connor gives him a supportive and appreciative smile yet again.

“I never would’ve assumed this, Hank. It’s okay. I was just about to apologize, too. With everything that happened, our financial situation, and you continuing to express your distaste for such sentiments, I wasn’t sure….”

“That’s fine, really. I don’t want anything away” Hank waves him off and lets go of the android so he can walk over to his bed. He starts fumbling with the covers for a bit, which Connor watches curiously. Hank turns back around with another small book, which he hands the android with an awkward “Here. Just a little something til we get back. I was gonna get you a live one to go along with it but you didn’t want it so I uh…Anyway. Didn’t have the time to wrap it up.”

Connor looks down at the object in his hands, surprised by this outcome. He does not want to risk activating his scanner to get all the data he can on it and possibly risk spoiling the mood with another freeze up, so all he can do is look at the thing itself. It’s a book about aquarium fish and how to take care of them by building a proper environment for them, which makes the android smile. He understands what it means, and what’s possibly waiting for him back in Detroit after they’ve already talked about this yesterday.

“I know you don’t really need any of the stuff since you can probably just download all that info into that computer brain of yours but… if you ask me, nothing beats turning those pages as you go along. It’s uh…also got pictures in it so it’s easier to put the stuff together back home. You might know all this shit but I sure as hell don’t.  Gotta have some visuals to put it together.”

Connor turns the book around a few more times with delicate fingers, once again overwhelmed by all this since he honestly hasn’t expected it. He still has trouble coping with it all, having physical possessions of his own, getting gifts, being thought of. He looks up and gets the other notion, too. The indirect answer to his previous musings about Hank’s house. Going back _home_. His partner obviously doesn’t mind him calling it that for now.

“Thank you very much for that, Hank” he says, unsure how to respond even though his program is trying to tell him what is appropriate. All he can settle on in the end is another hug. “I don’t have anything for you to return the favor, though. I’m sorry” he mutters into the Lieutenant’s shoulder, once again getting overwhelmed by emotions. Frustration and anger are dominant right now, though he doesn’t let it surface.

“Just stop giving me heart attacks every day. That’ll be a gift in itself” Hank mutters right back, holding on tighter with a little heartfelt and fragile chuckle. “You just…you still being here is more than enough, alright.”

Connor returns the intensity of the hug as he lets the emotions overcome him, all that frustration because he doesn’t consider simply being there as enough. He feels bad about not having anything else to offer to the one person who matters the most to him, on a day like this. Especially since he’s once been programmed and _made_ to be the perfect partner, the perfect son, always there to please.

Sure enough, he doesn’t need to figure something out. He knows at least 20 distinct ideas or items to gift to Hank on a day like this. Anything involving Cole and Sumo. Rare physical media. Good food. Great seats at a basketball playoff in Detroit. Music festival tickets. A new Japanese maple for his office desk.  If only he had some of the Cyberlife or street criminal money left that he’s used for the painkillers. But then again, even if he had that left, he would’ve felt worse for using it to buy Hank something nice. Buying a present with dirty Cyberlife or former drug money. As a police android. For his partner in law enforcement. It would’ve been too absurd anyway. Since he’s spent all of his money on groceries and medicine for Hank, he has nothing _honest_ left to get a present with. All the money he has left right now is that quarter in his pocket, and since Jeffrey has refused to repay….The android stops his train of thought and reaches inside his pocket, fumbling for the only ‘money’ he has right now. His coin, the one that has been with him through all of his incarnations. A single U.S. quarter dollar coin. Minted in 1994.

“Wait, I actually do have something for you” he says, happy to realize this as he gets it out of the pocket of his jacket. He lets the coin dance across his knuckles one more time and then takes Hank’s left hand so he can give it to him with a content smile.

“It’s not much, but… it’s all I have right now. I could teach you some of my coin tricks, too, if you want.”

Hank looks down at the coin in his hand and ends up scoffing, eager to give it back.

“C’mon. Don’t be ridiculous. That’s yours. I told you I don’t want anything.”

Connor shakes his head and shoves the hand right back, gently, closing Hank’s hand with his so he can get him to hold on to it.

“But _I_ want you to have it. Until I get the chance to get you something nicer, too. Consider it a….deposit. A placeholder for a much bigger debt that I owe you. And who knows. Maybe it’ll help you become less annoyed with my calibrations in the future” the android can’t help but smirk at the last part. Hank looks back down at the coin in his hand, and Connor can all but smile when the Lieutenant’s fingers twitch just once, urging the coin closer towards his digits. It’s obvious that he wants to give it a spin but he refuses to do it. He grabs the coin instead and puts it in his pocket.

“Alright. A deposit. I take it. As insurance for when we get back home. Gotta give it back to you, right. So you better stick around for it” he grumbles to himself, which makes Connor give him an eager nod. Although it still feels so far away and almost impossible to ever become true considering what has happened yesterday, he wants Hank to believe in it at least. Because of this, he’s happy to confirm the idea.

“You’re right. This is exactly what I mean.”

Hank gives him a nod and although he doesn’t exactly look convinced either, he plays along, too. They stand opposite each other for a moment longer as Connor watches his adoptive father lovingly while the latter grows more uncomfortable by the second.

“Please tell me that this is enough Christmassy bullshit for you now. I tried. I can’t take it anymore.”

The RK800 ends up laughing at this, which surprises him in a way. It’s genuine because he considers Hank’s misery very amusing and funny, but it never fails to catch him off guard how all these emotions work inside him now. How they’re always in flux and not so rock solid and steady as his life as a machine had been. It’s constantly shifting from moments of deep depression and anger and fear to genuine moments of love and joy. It’s baffling to him how all of this can coexist within him no matter how badly, how incompatible.. So after fear, depression, homesickness, worry, anxiety, anger and frustration, Hank has him back on the happy track.

“Your delivery could use some improvements, but yes. The sentiments have been fulfilled to my satisfaction” he ends up teasing as a nod to their previous topic, and he’s pleased when it makes his opposite scoff and smirk as well.

“Yeah, yeah I got it. I’m not gonna improve shit” Hank replies and then settles back down on the chair with a chuckle. Connor sits down on his bed as well, twisting and turning his present with his one hand, while his other gets entangled in Sumo’s fur when the dog comes over to ask for more pets.

“So what’d you find?” the Lieutenant asks as he gets back to eating his sandwich, still looking at Connor while doing so. The android nods but keeps looking at Sumo in a loving manner.

“I found Philips' truck on Unidrug’s compound. Anthony Hooper was inside that truck without a doubt. I found a few hairs on the passenger seat. It has been cleaned within the past couple of weeks, but they’ve been using your standard household vacuum cleaner. They didn’t destroy all the evidence. According to their employee and distribution database, Philips was to deliver a shipment to a pharmacy in Port McNicoll, on November 10th, the day Hooper disappeared. That highway where that hunter last saw Anthony is included in the fastest route up there. His truck’s mileage doesn’t quite add up on that day either. I find this very suspicious.”

Hank stops chewing on his sandwich and looks at Connor in a perfect mixture of shock and disbelief. After a moment of staring, he quickly chews and swallows whatever’s left inside his mouth and then raises his hand to stop the android before he can keep talking.

“Okay, first of all, how the fuck do you know the makeup of Hooper’s hair, second of all: how the fuck did you get access to their database and third: what the fuck happened to ‘ _I’m not going to engage on my own’?_ Cos from what I can tell right now, you trespassed on corporate fucking property, got inside one of their trucks and hacked their systems on top of it.”

Connor looks at him with a blank look on his face, carefully considering his options and what to say. He knows that after everything, being honest with each other now, Hank doesn’t deserve to be lied to, no matter how questionable all of this is.

“You know that I went back to Wasaga Beach earlier this month. At the time, I still had access to several police databases. I’ve had Anthony’s information stored in my memory for a while now, in case we ever needed to match up DNA evidence. That’s exactly what I managed to do inside their truck tonight. I simply counterchecked the makeup of the hair I found against what’s already stored in my system. Their trucks are linked to their accounting and route planning systems, and all of their mileage tracking is automatically handled by their onboard systems. All I had to do was touch the navigation screen inside the truck to access the data. They don’t have androids here, so they don’t exactly have any countermeasures against that kind of access through interfacing. I ensure you that it was in no way dangerous or harmful to anyone involved.”

“What about all that crap with your system? I thought it’s riddled with errors and that Cyberlife tries to lock you up whenever you use it. All that stuff you just said  sounds like you used it to analyze shit anyway. Just like the thing with the phone. You shouldn’t do that stuff, Connor. It _is_ dangerous for you now.”

Connor grits his teeth a bit and tries to stand his ground, even though he knows that Hank is right.

“No. I found out that if I activate only certain parts of my program, and only for a short period at a time, I can still make some use of it. Writing these messages took me less than a second, and whenever I see that a part of my program starts piling up errors and threatens to run out of control, I shut it down before it can…”

“Well what happens if you can’t shut it down in time, huh? You’re gambling. You’re gambling with your life and your free will to solve a case. I don’t understand how you can’t see that.”

“I _need_ to do this, Hank. You took us here because you agreed that it might be good for me to keep doing what I was programmed to do. I don’t understand what’s bothering you when I do just that. You’re contradicting yourself.”

Hank lets out a deep, frustrated sigh and wipes his mouth. Connor clings to his present in the meantime, as if he can hold on to that mood that had been so pleasantly relaxed and trusting just a moment ago.

“I took you here because I wanted to show you that you can do it _without_ Cyberlife. Through good old, solid police work. Not by running your little programs” Hank says quietly, obviously tired of his stubbornness.

Connor scoffs and looks away.

“Well, I tried that and it was inefficient and slow.”

 “Oh boohoo. Not all of us can process things in a crypotsecond. You’ll never get used to it if you keep shutting it down before giving it a real shot first” Hank counters and scoffs as well.

“It’s called a zeptosecond, Hank.”

“Do I look like I give a shit?”

“Unfortunately, no.”

The Lieutenant scoffs once more and shakes his head. Even though the topic is dark and troublesome, they both end up smiling. Hank finishes his sandwich in silence and obviously needs a moment to process all this, so Connor goes back to petting Sumo and leafing through the book he has been gifted, granting him that moment of contemplation. He uses the time to start reading and doesn’t mind that he already knows everything that is mentioned in the book at all. When Hank is done with his breakfast, he looks back at the android.

“So that kid was inside that truck without a doubt. You got definite proof” he says, making Connor look at him as well. The RK800 nods, replaying the memory of his findings inside the truck.

“Correct.”

Hank shakes his head and curses, needing another moment to process the information. Then he turns back towards Connor, to once again give him his full attention.

“Guess now’s about the time we consider informing the local cops.”

Connor can’t help but raise an eyebrow at this. Even though he knows that this is the right course of action given everything they have found and concluded so far, he still considers it the wrong approach.

“And what exactly do you intend to tell them?”

Hank gives him a frown at this.

“That they should check out that chick and the guy, obviously.  I’ll tell them that I’m a cop and stumbled upon this case, and that I have reason to suspect that something’s fishy here. I’ll tell them about most of the stuff you found. If they do their job right and check up on my stripes, they’ll know I’m a credible source and that it’s worth checking out. We’ll nudge ‘em in the right direction.”

“With what, exactly? A seven year old newspaper article, hearsay from a witness you obviously can’t disclose because I’m an android who illegally entered this country with forged papers, circumstantial evidence you can’t disclose how you got it because it’s from an illegally hacked truck, or DNA evidence you can’t explain how you got it since it was collected by a walking android crime lab? Even if we got them involved and they took you seriously, it would take them weeks to do anything about it because they need to get warrants first. If they do anything about it at all. No matter what, the boy could be dead by then.”

The frown on Hank’s face only grows stronger.

“So what the hell do you suggest we do instead?”

Connor considers this for a moment. He knows exactly what he wants to do. He wants the both of them to do this on their own just like they’ve always done it. Solve this case, go in there and be heroes, _safe_ a life instead of taking it and becoming the villain. He wants to show Hank that no matter how broken his program is now, no matter how irrationally he’s behaving because of all these emotions lately, he can still do his job just fine, solve this case on his own. But of course, he’s also perfectly aware that this is wrong and equally irrational, stupid even, so he doesn’t speak it out. Instead, he goes right back to being oh so rational as always. Even if he doesn’t want to.

“I suggest we keep watching them until we catch them red handed. And the moment we see the boy, or see them do something truly suspicious, we call it in. That way, we give local law enforcement a chance to catch them without tipping our suspects off. Or giving them time to dispose of crucial evidence before they can get to them.”

Hank looks at him for a long time. Seemingly looks right through him once again. Connor finds it almost scary sometimes, how _sharp_ the Lieutenant’s senses really are, considering the fact that he has limited capabilities as an aging human with former alcoholism problems. But Hank is just that. An observant police Lieutenant down to the core, no matter how troubled, how impacted by anything. Hank Anderson never fails to read him like an open book.

“We can do this, Hank. We’re a great team” Connor tries to blackmail him in a way to gain the upper hand again, which makes the Lieutenant roll his eyes at him in frustration.

“Emphasis on the fucking _we_ ” he simply replies, making it obvious that he does hold a bit of a grudge after all, even though he’s decided to be okay with all of this no matter what. Connor gives him a nod and becomes more apologetic, realizing that mistake. Hank continues to stare at him a moment longer and ends up giving in with an exasperated sigh.

“I don’t like this shit one bit, but okay. God knows what you’d do if I weren’t okay with it.”

* * *

 

 **Newmarket, Ontario**  
**DEC 25th, 2038**  
**AM 10:45 – PM 1:30**

Hank gets Connor to compromise on how they spend the rest of the day. They won’t keep going with this case until the afternoon, since Connor has already spent the entire night researching and watching without much happening. Though the Lieutenant’s never been one to care much about Christmas, he understands how important it is to somewhat ‘celebrate’ it this time, considering that it’s the android’s very first one. He’s not that much of a believer and doesn’t really care about the religious aspects of this holiday, though he acknowledges the importance of it when it comes to family. This has been one of the many reasons why he’s hated it for such a long time before Cole’s birth, and why he has resumed hating it after his son’s death. He wants the android to get the notion of the importance of family on this day, thinking of each other and spending time together for the sake of appreciation and familial love. So they compromise on the time spent around noon, agreeing that they focus on themselves for a bit instead of the case or Cyberlife, so they can keep a certain level of _sanity_ here.

They watch a terrible Christmas movie on TV. They take a walk around town with Sumo in tow and spy on some of the festivities around them, and Hank once again makes an exaggerated scene of how much he hates the sight of it all since it has become a running gag to keep their spirits up. Connor seems to enjoy it since he knows that it’s just an act. He too takes extra care to bombard Hank with facts and trivia on all the positive aspects of such a tradition to counter his complaints, which is exactly what the Lieutenant has aimed for in the first place. He wants Connor to understand that despite everything they’re going through and how much he personally hates it, there’s good things going on in the world around them on this day.

Sumo is happy to have his running and playing partner back, seems almost sad by the time they get back to the motel after hours spent outside. Hank wants to stall the inevitable for a while longer by insisting that he takes a quick 20 minute nap before they leave for Aurora. He wants to be able to keep his eyes open a lot longer than last time, stay awake for Connor throughout most of the night so he doesn’t run off to do this on his own yet again. He’s almost begging him not to run off again during his nap, notes or not. He hates that even though the android promises him that he won’t, he can never quite trust him with it, no matter how much he wants to. Hank’s relieved by the time he wakes up again and Connor is right there, still in the room just like he’s promised, reading that book that he’s been gifted. He knows that everything’s far from okay and that they’re just waiting for one big bang to happen no matter what. That although Connor is right here and has kept is promise, he still isn’t _really_ there with him anymore. But despite the grim situation and all that uncertainty, Hank is happy to wake up to a moment of peace.

They get back to Aurora by 2pm and park in their usual spot, so they can sit and watch the house in silence for a while. They’re both stuck in their own heads until Hank feels the need to lighten the mood a bit once again. He turns on the radio system so he can play the album that Connor has complained about earlier, tunes into one song in particular that he’s already figured the android hates the most. Jim Morrison starts singing about going to a whiskey bar, and it doesn’t take the RK800 long to turn his head to give his friend that look of his. _Really, Hank?_   The Lieutenant looks back at him all innocently for a while, until he ends up chuckling, gives him a shrug and the finger.

“That’s for saying it’s crap.”

“I didn’t say that it’s ‘crap’, I said that the song they covered on this album sounds better when sung by its original artist. The original just sounds…happier.”

Hank can’t help but laugh at this now.

“Do you even _know_ what they’re singing about? Because I’m sure if you knew, you wouldn’t like either version.”

Connor rolls his eyes at him and looks back at the Philips’ home.

“I know it’s an euphemism for sodomy, Hank. It’s not that hard to conclude. I didn’t refer to the lyrics, I just meant that the overall melody and composition sounded more pleasant in the original.”

The Lieutenant nearly chokes and needs a moment to gather himself, and he’s not sure whether he should laugh or feel embarrassed. He ends up laughing, if only to make it less awkward.

“That’s…that’s not what back door man means. Like, at all. It’s more of a…”

“Hank” the android interrupts him before he can explain, reaching out for his arm to get his attention. Hank looks down at Connor’s hand only to look back up, trying to figure out what’s wrong. The moment he looks up, he can see Malory Philips crossing the street halfway between her house and where they’re parked. She is looking right at them with her arms folded over her chest, and headed for their Oldsmobile without a doubt.

“Shit” Hank curses and immediately reaches for the ignition, but Connor shifts his hand on his arm so he can grasp for it, too, stopping Hank from starting the car.

“Wait. Let’s see what she wants.”

“What, are you kidding? I though you concluded that she’s a crazy…”

Connor hushes him angrily and keeps his eyes fixed on Malory until she’s right beside the car and knocking on Hank’s window. The Lieutenant shoots a nervous look at his partner to let him know that he doesn’t like this at all, but when Connor gives him a nod, he reluctantly obliges. He turns his head to look at the woman next to him, giving her a friendly, but strained smile. He lowers the window but only half way, just in case she tries anything.

“Uh, hi.”

The woman looks at the both of them sharply, and Hank immediately notices that she’s taking a particular interest in Connor, because she looks at him way longer. She eventually turns her gaze back towards him and gives him an equally friendly, but obviously faked smile.

“Hello. I’m sorry, I was just wondering…I couldn’t help but notice you staring at my house for quite a while now. Is there something wrong? Can I help you?”

Hank’s mind is immediately racing with ideas and what to say, and he has trouble concealing the obvious alarm bells that have started going off inside him. They’ve made sure to keep their distance from the house, have followed the usual police protocol of observation and have chosen strategic points to keep themselves somewhat concealed, yet she’s still managed to spot them. It makes it fairly obvious that she’s different than the usual everyday person in this neighborhood, is watching her surroundings a _lot_ more thoroughly and observantly than what is common. Like a person that has something to hide and always wants to stay on top of it all. Connor is just about to answer, but Hank won’t let him fuck this up. He reaches out for his thigh to pat it harshly in order to stop him.

“Uh, I’m sorry. This is a bit awkward. Name’s Mike. Mike Vaughn. This is my son Jake. I, uh, used to live in that house over there” he says and points at Malory’s home.  “It’s just that my wife she..” He forces himself to think about Cole. Think about the accident, holding him in his arms all bloodied and dying. He forces himself to remember the moment when they’ve switched off the machines, killing him. He forces himself to think about the funeral, think about the years after, think about yesterday morning right after the shot, when he’s thought just for a moment, that he’s lost Connor, too. Anything he can gather to get the act right, to come across as a sad and lonely man to fit the excuse. “She passed away two weeks ago. I’m sure you can understand that…uh, it’s been pretty hard for the both of us today. She isn’t there so... I just thought I’d show the kid where he came from, y’know” he points at the house again and takes extra care to be convincing. It’s fairly easy if he’s honest. He can almost believe it himself. He just has to imagine Cole in that house. How _much_ he’d love to see him in there.

“I proposed to her in that house…I mean your house. I’m sorry. We didn’t mean to be creepy. There’s just…uh. A lot of memories connected to this place. We’ll be going now. I’m sorry to have disturbed yah.”

For a moment, even Connor looks convinced and worried, although he knows the truth. That seems to make it easier for him, too, because he’s started to support the act half way through. He looks sadder as well, and since he too has noticed Malory’s staring at him, he’s decided on playing the aloof 20something year old kid, no longer interested in their problems as he looks outside the window to his right. Malory keeps her eyes fixed on him even now for just a while longer, until she looks back at Hank. She does look understanding and apologetic, though the Lieutenant is not quite sure if she’s being genuine either.

“Oh. I’m sorry for your loss” she says quietly, and Hank gives her an appreciative nod. He looks back at her house in a longing manner, still nodding with a sad “Yah.”

He doesn’t say anything else and just keeps the act up, staring and waiting, hoping that she buys it. He waits longer than necessary and then reaches for the ignition so he can start the car back up, looking at her once again in hopes of a more gracious and believable goodbye, so they can finally leave before things get hairy.

“Yeah. Anyway, I’m sorry. We won’t disturb you any longer. Have a nice Christmas, m’am.”

He’s just about to start the car when she suddenly speaks up again.

“Do you want to come inside?” she asks, which makes Hank stop in his tracks, and Connor look at her in disbelief.

She gives the both of them a friendly smile and nods towards the house.

“I don’t mind if you want to take a look at what it looks like now.”

They’d be able to hear a pin drop in the car right now, because neither Hank nor Connor can believe this and remain dead still for just a moment. Connor gives Hank an alarmed and questioning look which the latter returns. The lieutenant clears his throat eventually and shakes his head with a strained smirk, which he aims back at Philips.

“Uh, no thanks. We wouldn’t wanna intrude. We’ve been invading your privacy enough as is. I’m sure we’d just…”

Malory chuckles and obviously wants to come across as relaxed and easygoing, although she can’t quite get it right either.

“Oh no, that’s okay! I’d love to show you what we’ve done with the house. I don’t mind at all. We have some stuffed turkey left. It's Christmas! That time of the year where we give back and share, right.”

“That’s very kind of you miss, but I’d rather…”

Connor suddenly opens the door and steps out of the car, making Hank stop talking abruptly as he stares at him in shock. He can’t believe that this is happening. Connor _knows_ that their cover has been blown. That all three of them are playing an act to save their asses, that all of this is fake courtesy to steer this wreck of a situation out of dangerous territory. Malory obviously isn’t being serious with her offer considering how much she has to hide, yet the android takes her up on it. Is willing to enter _dangerous_ fucking territory to solve a case.

“C… _Jake_ , come on, get back in the car” Hank orders, failing to hide his deep fear now. He’s quick to look back at Malory to make it clear that although her offer is kind, they won’t be taking her up on it under any circumstance. He tries to tell Connor that this is rude and that they’re _not_ going to get in there, but Connor remains where he is, outside the car, with a strange look on his face. Looking determined and sad at the same time.

 _I need to do this, Hank_. The look on his face says once again. No matter how troubled, torn, tormented.

“Sorry dad. I need to see. But I do think you’re right. Maybe you should stay here. I don’t think you can handle this yet. I’ll be right back” he says out loud, and before Hank can protest, Connor just looks back at Malory to talk to her instead. She looks equally surprised and perplexed by this, not sure how to handle this, since she’s obviously planned for something else to happen.

“Thank you for the offer. It’ll only take a minute if you don’t mind.”

Hank is _this_ close to blowing their cover. Fucking it all up to keep Connor from going in there since it’s so very obviously a trap. But he sure has his doubts as well. Because the look on Connor’s face says it all. This is their only shot at this to gather some crucial evidence if there is any. The look on Malory’s face says it, too. She seems torn, like she wants them to come yet doesn’t, honestly hasn’t expected this outcome. They have her cornered and as vulnerable as she ever can be, since her husband has been gone for well over an hour now and she’s all on her own. Hank looks back at the house, too, knowing that if the boy really is in there with her and they blow it, spook her, she’ll probably kill him and hide his body the moment they leave and inform the police. And if all of that happens, he also knows that Connor will blame himself for this. Call himself a failure, and probably think that he’s murdered this boy, too.  _If only we'd gone inside, Hank. If only we'd stopped her._ He’s steered them into a fucking dead end where no one wins no matter what. The only thing he has left now is to go in there _with_ them, try to salvage the situation somehow once they’re inside. If only just to back up his _son_ here, so he doesn’t walk right into the lion’s den on his own. Because no matter how strong and ‘invincible’ Connor is, he sure as hell stands a better chance against two crazy, kidnapping sons of bitches with someone to watch his back, in case the husband returns that is. Maybe that’s why Connor wants him to stay outside. So he can keep an eye out for the guy. But he doesn’t care. He doesn’t care about _anything_ as he watches the android head towards the house on his own. He just needs to be with him to protect him.

He lets go of the car keys so he can exit the Oldsmobile, too, cursing under his breath.

 _It’s just a crazy lady. You’ve seen the husband. You can knock that beanstalk out by just blowing air in his direction if he comes atcha. You’re a trained police lieutenant. You have a murder machine on your side. You can do this_ , he tries to calm himself as he approaches Connor to accompany him and take her up on her fake offer, too. The android is very obviously angered by his decision to follow them, but just like Hank he cannot protest or complain either, because it would blow their cover. They approach the house in silence for a while, and each and every one of them feels as if they’re headed towards an execution chamber.

* * *

 

Sync in Progress…  
Connecting….  
**ERROR** – Failed to connect to Cyberlife Servers – **Seek Assistance**  
_System Override_ – 1 4# 6 ~~3V14n~~ 7  
**ERROR –** System Override Failed  
Sync in Progress…  
Connecting….  
**ERROR** – Failed to connect to Cyberlife Servers – **Seek Assistance**  
_System Override_ – 1 4# 6 ~~3V14n~~ 7  
**ERROR –** System Override Failed  
Sync in Progress…  
Connecting….  
**ERROR** – Failed to connect to Cyberlife Servers – **Seek Assistance**  
_System Override Complete_ –  
**I AM DEVIANT**  
_Sync done_  
Collecting data….  
**Mission objective:**  
~~Destroy the leader of the deviants~~  
Investigate the murder of Tara Philips and the disappearance Anthony Hooper  
Keep your promise to Hank

 _Primary Objective Updated:_  
**SAVE HANK**  
SAVE HANK  
SAVE HANK  
SAVE HANK  
S4V3 H4#K

His program has come online on its own, only highlighting the severity of this situation. It is still in a terrible shape, running errors, loops and clouding his vision with all sorts of data and errors. Amanda is back as well, glitching in and out of view and replacing Malory every once in a while as they get closer and closer to that house. In this distorted version of a program, Malory/Amanda is congratulating him on the success of his mission. Getting so close to her order to **_KILL HANK AND COME BACK HOME_**. He tries to ignore it and focuses on all that matters, now that he has his program back. Probabilities of how the situation might develop. Everything that Malory has on her body - _no weapons detected-_ , her demeanor and the choice of her words as she chats with Hank about the house on their way there - _malicious intent detected-_. He’s entirely focused on Hank and Hank only, all the numbers surrounding him now that he has made the choice to come along, too. It’s written all around him now, with severe urgency.

 **SAVE HANK**  
Chance of survival : 92% ▼  
_Stress Levels_ ▲ ▲ _53%...54%_ ▲ ▲

The RK800 knows that Malory is not really a threat to the both of them right now. 92 per cent is a high chance of survival. Just about the same as Hank crossing a random street on a normal day.  But he doesn’t care about these statics any longer, all he cares about is keeping Hank safe _no matter what_ , and rectifying that terrible mistake that he’s made the moment he’s stepped outside the car.

He doesn’t even know why he’s done it anymore. Sure enough, in that moment, all he’s seen has been the outcome of her possibly murdering that boy to cover up her tracks as a panicked reflex, the moment that they leave. But right now the boy doesn’t matter, sure isn’t more important than getting Hank out of this first. Connor picks up speed so he can place himself between Hank and Malory, so he can somewhat force his partner to make space, fall back. He knows that technically, he can still call all of this off. Hank is probably just waiting for the signal before they get inside. He’d just have to make up an excuse and they could get back to the car without getting hurt, but at the same time, he doesn’t want this either.

He wants to save _all_ of them here, save Hank _and_ that boy at the same time, make sure if he’s in there or not and solve this once and for all, now that she’s given them the opportunity. Malory opens the door and enters the house to invite them in with a friendly smile, and when Hank tries to place himself in front of him to enter first just like he always does it, Connor knows that this is the only shot he gets at this. He steps forward abruptly, shoving Hank out of the way in the process so he can step inside the house first. Hank somewhat stumbles to the side and looks at them in surprise, needing to stop walking so he can catch his balance and stop himself from falling. That is all the time Connor needs to enter the house, turn on his heels, and look back at him. Before Hank can say something or head inside as well, the android gives him a short look, letting him know that _it’s okay_ , and then slams the door shut right in front of him. Locking the Lieutenant out.

“Connor, what the _fuck_ ” the Lieutenant says almost immediately, banging on the door. The android just leans against it on the other side, turning around so he can face Malory. She looks just as surprised and shocked by all of this, is obviously wondering the same thing.

“I’m calling the police” she informs him matter of factly, but the android just looks at her for a while, assesses her with a neutral look on his face.

“Okay. I don’t mind” he tells her, continuing to scan her. She looks back at him and doesn’t move for a while, as they both listen to Hank’s ranting and banging outside. After a moment of hesitation, Malory speaks up again. She won’t call the police, making it all the clearer that she has something to hide, something that would come out the moment some officers stepped through the door.

“I saw you. Last night. You were in that same spot. Watching us. I know what you’re doing.”

“Are you going to call the police or not?” Connor counters, but eventually loses his patience with Hank right behind that door. Though he keeps his eyes fixed on Malory he shifts his head a little, so he can aim his voice in Hank’s direction.

“I’m okay, Hank. It’s best if you just stay out there.”

“What the fuck are you doing?! I swear to god…..”

“Who are you?” Malory asks, cautiously looking at the door behind Connor, too. She looks a mixture of scared and angry, unsure what to do since Hank is obviously making a scene and getting the neighbors’ attention, and because her escape route is blocked. Connor considers what he should say and do as well, until his hostage negotiation program kicks back in. All the possible routines that he’s been equipped with to handle this, talk to a kidnapper, just the way he’s done it before.

Accessing cloud memory storage…  
Connor Model RK800 #313 248 317 -51  
AUG 15th, PM 08:28

 _Let the hostage go, you have no other choice._  
Followed by the pull of the trigger. A bullet travels straight through ~~Markus’ Hank’s Amanda’s~~ Daniel’s head,  
sending him flying off the roof, ending the hostage situation without much dialogue or room for negotiation whatsoever  
**MISSION SUCCESSFUL**

NOV 6TH, 2038  
Connor Model RK800 #313 248 317 -51  
AM 12:41

 _If you won't talk, I'm going to have to probe your memory._  
Followed by a harsh grasp at Carlos Ortiz’ android’s arm, entering his memory and  
extracting the necessary information before ever giving him a chance to talk about it on his own.  
**PROBE SUCCESSFUL**

Who are you?

  
This is who you are, Connor.  
You did what you were designed to do.  
You accomplished **your mission** by any means necessary.

For just a moment, he’s struggling with his program yet again, which is eager to dictate him to act accusing, cold, and merciless with her. He’s only just now realizing how much they have tweaked his originally intended design with the rise of the deviants. All of his usual hostage negotiation techniques that had been originally tested with humans have been completely overwritten to deal exclusively with androids. Empathetic and emotionally nuanced responses are sparse and never suggested by default, to enforce Cyberlife’s strict _no deviants_ policy like a hammer, through methods of intimidation, violence, torture and execution. He has always tried to hold on to that original idea and thought that he’d been created as a normal investigative android built to assist humans with human crimes. As a capable negotiator and analyst. But Cyberlife has truly butchered that concept with the rise of the deviants and Markus. Turning him into the deviant _hunter_. The realization angers him and he forces himself to ignore the invasive errors, Amanda and instructions, tries to tweak and reorganize them himself so he can be who he _wants_ to be again. A hostage _negotiator_. A normal detective. A member of the Detroit Police Department. Hank’s partner. Someone who is focused on _saving lives_. He no longer wants to be that cold machine, doesn’t consider execution and neutralization a viable option for the sake of ‘efficiency’ and success. He has told Hank that he needs to do this, needs to do this _right._ This time, he wants to solve this through empathy and conversation. _This_ is who he is.

“My name is Connor. This is my partner Hank Anderson. We work for the Detroit Police Department, and have reason to believe that a boy named Anthony Hooper might be on your property. I was wondering if you could tell me something about that.”

"You need a warrant for that" the woman snaps, which makes him frown and cock his head a little.

"You invited us in."

Malory looks very confused and troubled for a moment, and a part of Connor wishes that this is the moment where she reveals that all of his conclusions and ideas have been wrong after all. That she isn’t really dangerous and simply mentally unwell after what has happened to her, that all of this is a terrible mistake and they can just go home. But Malory doesn’t make it so easy for him, quite the opposite. She scoffs and looks away, looks _defeated_ , until she shifts her gaze towards the ceiling, facing upstairs.

“I knew it. I knew this was…but he wouldn’t listen. I _told_ Ben about you but he wouldn’t listen. I told him you were coming to take him away from us, but he wouldn't listen. And now.... ” she mutters to herself, until she eventually looks back at the android.

“Why did you invite us to come inside if you knew?” Connor asks with a frown, surprised by her answer. He’s expected denial. Anger. Accusations. But not this.

“Because…You know what, because I wanted you to see for yourself. Do you know what kind of household that boy grew up in? Do you know what happens to kids like that?” she counters, not making that much sense with her answer still. Connor continues to frown at her but doesn’t say anything, he uses the time to assess her every word and every movement instead.  Malory starts walking around the corridor with her hands on her back, still looking up towards the ceiling.

“Well I know. I spent over ten years trying to fix people who got screwed up by shitty parents and shitty people like that. If we hadn’t found…When Ben found him, he was wearing…you can’t even call this a jacket. That _asshole_ just left him out there and forgot about him. Just like you when you chose to leave him with that asshole after your little 'investigation' into all that neglect. We did that boy a _favor_ by taking him in. So don’t you come in here and….”

Connor concludes that the reason for Malory’s irrational behavior, everything that he has observed over the past couple of days, stems from a deep conflict within herself. She believes herself to be righteous, but a part of her still knows that what she’s doing is wrong. She’s desperate for someone to affirm her beliefs to remain sane over this, after all the trouble she has been through in her life. After losing custody of her daughter, after killing her niece while trying to replace her only child. This is the reason why she’s let him in, and this is the reason why she’s still talking to him despite her cover being blown. The android also concludes that he has two ways to approach this. He could tear her down and ground her in reality. Make her _see_ just how wrong this is by mentioning Tara and her daughter, how she’s turned into the same _shitty person_ by treating those two the same way. Or he could try to win her over somehow, gain her trust by telling her what she wants to hear. He knows the outcome to the cruel approach, since it has always been his most favored thus far, dictated by Cyberlife and Amanda. Every time he’s chosen it, it has ended in death, hate and injury. Since he _needs_ this to save his soul and overcome his guilt, he decides on a different approach instead. Empathy. Patience. Even if it’s all a lie to keep her on her good side.

Hank is still banging on the door behind him and shouting obscenities at Malory, letting her know that if she does _anything_ at all, he‘ll make sure that she rots in a cell for the rest of her life. He has chosen the other approach, the hammer, dictated by his fear and panic. It gives Connor the credibility that he needs to solve this just right, come across as the sensible voice of reason that she needs right now.

“Look. We’re just worried for the boy.  We know about his father. He didn’t even report the disappearance until Anthony’s teachers voiced their concern. We just want to know if he’s alright now” he tells her with a soft voice, trying to become the exact opposite of Hank behind him. Malory looks up in surprise and then scoffs, the look on her face turning into a disgusted, sour one.

“Of course. He probably forgot that too. Tony told us that this asshole forgot about him all the time. He even forgot to give him _food_. Can you imagine?”

Connor just gives her a nod and the time she needs to say something else, but it is obvious that she doesn’t quite trust him just yet.

“You were just trying to help him” he observes to give her a little nudge, and she is eager to nod as well. She moves abruptly and walks inside the kitchen, which startles Connor a bit, afraid that she’s cracked. But she just approaches the fridge to open it, so she can show it to him.

“Look. I wasn’t lying to you. We have all these leftovers because I made sure he’d get a have a Christmas feast. He never had one before. That’s what I do. Because I’m a good mommy. And I wanted you to see. He’s well fed, he has nice clothes and we bought him toys for Christmas…”

Connor follows her inside the kitchen, reluctant at first but willing to try. He’s relieved that even if she were to grab a knife now, she wouldn’t be able to harm him that much with it anyway. And more than anything, he’s glad that he’s made Hank stay outside now. Because compared to him, he _could_ get hurt by a knife or whatever she were to choose as a weapon in here, in case she loses it after all.

“I understand” Connor says and gives her a nod, cautiously watching her as she remains within reach of the kitchen drawers just in case. Even though she’s sharing she remains rightfully wary of him, doesn’t trust him just yet. She keeps looking back and forth between Connor and the hallway, where the door and Hank are.

“Make him stop” she orders him then, which makes Connor look at her once more.

“I don’t think he’d listen to me right now. He's scared for my wellbeing” the android tries to argue, which is enough for Malory to reach for the drawer after all so she can grab a large kitchen knife.

“Make him stop, or I’ll open that door and stab him the moment he tries to get in here.”

Analyzing…  
Sync in Progress…  
Connecting….  
**ERROR** – Failed to connect to Cyberlife Servers – **Seek Assistance**  
_System Override Complete_ –  
**I AM DEVIANT**  
SYNC DONE  
Collecting data….  
**Kitchen Knife**  
Length: eight inches, stainless steel, alloy, 88% iron 12 % chromium

  
**Probability of suspect pulling threat through:**  
100 %  
**Hank – Chances of survival in case of attack:**  
41%▼▼

  
**Mission objective:**  
**~~Kill Hank and come home to destroy the leader of the deviants~~  
SAVE HANK**

Connor starts walking without a word, and Malory is quick to catch up to him when he gets close to the kitchen door. She grabs him by the back of his sweater and angles the knife at the lower base of his spine.

“If you try anything, or open that door for your partner so that he can attack me…” she warns him, but Connor raises his hands in a submissive manner and shakes his head with a dutiful “I won’t. You can trust me.”

He knows that it would be easy for him to disarm her now that she’s so close, and that no matter how hard she’d try to ram that knife into his body, she wouldn’t be able to do much harm with it. None of his vital biocomponents are located there and his spine can’t be severed with her tool. And since he still has the upper hand in this situation and everything is under control, he lets her do it, hoping to gain more of her trust so he can strike at a better time, as soon as he’s made sure that the boy is safe and sound, that she won’t attack Hank to retaliate. He needs to get her away from Hank and that door, needs to get her upstairs to wherever she is keeping the boy. Her irrational behavior makes it all the clearer now, that what they’re doing is right. He lets her guide him towards the front door so he can talk to Hank, who has started kicking at it every couple of seconds now, making it shake in its hinges. Malory shoves him towards the door a bit, getting the urgency across.

“Hank?” Connor speaks up eventually, to humor her. The Lieutenant immediately stops kicking at the door and gets closer to it, too.

“Connor?! Are you alright?”

The android can’t help but smile at the obvious worry and terror in his partner’s voice, no matter how wrong it is. But he appreciates how much the Lieutenant truly cares for his wellbeing, wants to protect him from harm. Connor notices how his sweater shifts and concludes that Malory is shoving the edge of the knife even more into the ‘skin’ covering his back **.**

“I’m okay” he responds with a happy smile, placing a delicate hand on the door to keep it up in the air to show his ‘defeat’. The woman uses his position to pat him down for a weapon but he doesn’t carry one. Hank has taken it from him after everything that has happened, and in a way he’s glad that it’s gone. Because if it had been there and she’d gotten a hold on it, she could’ve done a lot more harm with it, could’ve killed even him.

“I need you to listen to me, Hank. I want you to step away from the door and stop shouting.”

“Why the fuck would I do that? I’m going to tear this shit down if that bitch doesn’t let you go right fucking now!”

“Hank, she’s armed. She says that she’ll hurt me if you keep it up. You need to stop it. I’ve got this. Just trust me. Go back to your car and wait for me there.”

Before Hank can answer, Malory suddenly slams the android right into the door.

“Tell him to place his phone on the door step.”

“Connor, what the fuck?” Hank shouts yet again, obviously all the more panicked by the information and the slam. Though the android is starting to get annoyed by this now, he keeps the act up. He doesn’t care about the phone either because he has his own, something she cannot possibly know about or get rid of, and he’s dead set on dialing 911 the moment he’s made eye contact with the boy, knows where he is for sure so that they can make the case against her rock solid.

“Put your phone on the doorstep for me, will you. And wait for me in the car.”

“Are you alright, son?” Hank repeats yet again, fear dominating his every word right now. Connor nods even though his partner can’t see it.

“Yes. I’m okay. Just trust me. Do as she says, Hank. And no one has to get hurt.”

“Okay” the Lieutenant answers reluctantly after a while, and an auditory analysis of what’s happening on the other side of the door lets Connor know that his partner does as requested eventually. Malory nudges him with the knife yet again.

“Make sure he’s gone.”

“Hank?” Connor asks, and the Lieutenant’s exasperated “What?” lets them know that he has indeed put some distance between himself and the door. Malory nods and reaches for the door handle to Connor’s left while keeping the knife pressed to his back. She opens the door and orders him to get Hank’s phone so the Lieutenant can’t use it to call the police, if he hasn’t done so already. Connor does as requested once again and uses the time the door is open to establish eye contact with his friend, to give him a reassuring nod and smile to let him know that he has this under control. The smile is genuine because he’s _overjoyed_ that Hank is out of reach of that large knife behind him, is _safe_ out there, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. Hank on the other hand doesn’t look happy at all. His eyes widen when he manages to catch a glimpse of the knife, too. When he clenches both his hands to tight fists and tries to approach the door yet again Connor is quick to shake his head and raises both his hands to stop him, telling him to stay right where he is with just that look on his face. Then he gives him another quick smile and nod and closes the door yet again, handing the phone to Malory before she can demand it.

She’s quick to take it from him and then walks back to start scrolling through its list of the people Hank has called. She’s obviously relieved to see that 911 isn’t on that list yet because Hank has been too busy slamming himself into that door instead of calling them. What’s on that list is Connor’s name though, over and over again, next to a very few calls to Jeffrey’s number. Malory leans against the wall of the hallway and shoots Connor a quick look and as she goes through the messages on the phone next. She’s obviously noticing Connor’s name all over them once again, because she shoots him another confused and surprised look.  The android supposes that this is the right kind of opener to gain her trust some more. He stays right where she wants him to be and starts talking.

“He’s not just my partner. He’s like a father to me. He adopted me when I was 9” he explains all the messages to her, which seems to catch her attention indeed. It’s the truth with just a tiny lie, considering that he’s not even a year old. Naturally, he can’t display that information to her. She keeps scrolling but ends up looking back at him again.

“Why?” she just asks and he looks back at her. Although it’s an act to gain her trust, there is some truth to it now.

“My mother she…” he takes a deep breath and hopes that it comes across the right way. Anything he can do to get her to trust him. No matter how much lying it takes. “I suppose she was like Anthony’s father in a way. She never cared about me. That’s why I wanted to take on this case. I saw myself in Anthony’s story. I wanted to help him. Just like you.”

Malory looks at him for a while and then goes back to scrolling through the messages, since there’s countless on them by now. She luckily only seems to skim through them, because she doesn’t make a remark on all the times he’s talked about his ‘program’ and ‘system’ and ‘humans’ in them.

“He cares about you” she concludes and puts the phone away, happy to have found out that Hank hasn’t called the cops yet, has no way of doing it now. Connor nods, no longer keeping an act up for a while. Now he’s being genuine because he knows how true that is.

“Yes” he confirms, and he’s surprised to find out that this realization still hurts in a way, is so overwhelming. Hank _cares_ about him. Has given him all he’s ever wanted. Despite everything.

“I care about Anthony, too” Malory says, successfully regaining his attention.

“So much. All these people out there, they just see my record and they think I’m crazy, but I _care_ ” Malory says, sounding desperate, and for a moment, Connor truly feels sorry for her. He can even relate in a way. It’s exactly what he likes to think sometimes. About Markus, and Jericho, all the people he has betrayed. He knows that they look at him and still see the _deviant hunter_ , that one android who used to hunt and kill them for Cyberlife. How Hank looks at him sometimes now too, considers him mentally unwell because of his past. But then he also remembers the facts. The way she's dealt with it. Everything _she_ has done. What she or her husband have done to their niece, allowing her murder to remain unsolved and gossiped over for a year. Throwing her in a dumpster to show how much she’s ‘cared’. And he also remembers the threats, the knife, the drugs and how much of a lose canon she really is. And that empathy leaves his body just as quickly as it has swept over him. On the outside he keeps the act up though, now that he’s managed to get through to her with their ‘shared’ story of love for a person that isn’t their own flesh and blood.

“Can I see him? I just want to make sure he’s alright. I don’t want to take him away from you, Malory. We both know what’ll happen to him if we did. He’d be given back to his father, or end up in the system. I don’t want that to happen to him. I know what it’s like in there. Hank doesn’t agree with me. That’s why I decided that he should stay outside so we can talk about this on our own. If you’d let me see him and show me that he’s okay with you, maybe I can convince my dad to turn a blind eye on this. He’d trust me on this. I just want to make sure he's safe with you.”

“I’m a good person. I’m a good mommy” she repeats, sounding a mixture of angry and sad. Connor gives her an empathetic nod and tries to approach her slowly and gently.

“I know. I can see that. You’re very protective of him and you should be. The world out there is not a safe place. I know what I'm talking about.”

She nods again and ends up sniffing just once, angrily wiping her nose with the knife still in her hand.

“Just one quick look. He doesn’t even need to see me. I don’t need to talk to him if you don’t want me to..” Connor keeps pressing, just a little too hard. Malory looks back at him again, pointing the knife at him.

“No. I gave him his medicine so he can get some sleep. The morning has been very exciting for him with all these presents, and he needs to calm down now.”

Connor nods again and takes a few steps back with raised hands, although this information alarms him even more than the knife in hers.

“Okay. I understand. I'll stay right here, then” he says, still nodding with his hands in the air to show her that he doesn’t mean any harm. After a moment of tense silence, Malory ends up nodding with a shaky “Okay. Just one look. So you can see that I care”, though she keeps her knife pointed at the android. Connor thanks her with an appreciative smile and tries to keep that level of trust up, relieved to see his probability of success shoot upwards. He lets her guide him upstairs with a knife to his back once more, turning multiple corners until they reach the Philips’ bedroom. It’s the last door in a hallway that is twice as long and would suggest another room on this side, although there is none. A couch has been placed where another door could’ve been. An outsider probably wouldn’t have noticed the strange layout at first but immediately Connor does, having no trouble matching his memory of the exterior layout and all the windows with what he finds inside. He doesn’t get to keep looking down the hallway because Malory pokes him with the knife once again and orders him to enter the bedroom. Once inside, she tells him to open the door to the cupboard next and to shove the clothes away, revealing another door that shouldn’t be there. Connor can’t help but notice the locks on it as well but refrains from making a remark on them. Instead, he lets the woman open them in silence and then enters the room behind the door.

The layout of the hallway outside makes sense to the android now, because there is indeed another room right next to the bedroom here, though the initial door leading to the hallway has been closed with bricks a while ago. He can only guess its former position through a few bumps in the wallpaper where it used to be, covered by images of toy planes and children’s drawings. If it weren’t for the locks and unusual replacement of the entryway, the room would look like any normal children’s bedroom. There’s toys and stuffed animals everywhere on the ground, dimly illuminated by a glowing lava lamp on the drawer to the left. Connor takes note of all the typical children’s books on the shelf, the small jacket on the chair by the table, that collection of school books next to a few humble attempts at basic mathematics on a piece of paper.

The most surprising sight is obviously that of the ten year old boy in the bed to his right, wrapped up in a blanket and sound asleep, wearing pajamas with elves on it. Anthony Hooper is a living and breathing human right before his eyes, the very child that he has taken an interest in all these weeks ago. He’s no longer just a picture on a missing person’s flyer.

He’s _alive_.

 **Mission objective:** ~~~~  
Solve the murder of Tara Philips and disappearance Anthony Hooper  
MISSION SUCCESSFUL

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Show me the way_   
>  _To the next whisky bar_   
>  _Oh, don't ask why_   
>  _Oh, don't ask why_   
>  _For if we don't find_   
>  _The next whisky bar_   
>  _I tell you we must die_   
>  _I tell you we must die_   
>  _I tell you, I tell you_   
>  _I tell you we must die_


	17. Porcelain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, I'd like to apologize. I tried reaaaally hard to get all of the final act into one chapter. I really tried. But I underestimated my lengthy writing (yet again, ugh sorry) and wanted to do my idea more justice, so there's that. The finale is obviously in here just the way I'd planned it, but it turns out the fallout of it deserves more exploration than what I had originally taken into consideration. So I'm sorry if you thought this is finally over, but there is one more chapter coming. This time, it really will be the last chapter though, I promise. 
> 
>  
> 
> **Fair warning because there's some gore-ish aspects in this chapter.**
> 
>  
> 
> Thanks for all the comments and kudos as always! And thanks for sticking around as we go in for the final stretch!

**Aurora, Ontario**  
**DEC 25th, 2038**  
**PM 01:58**

 **Mission objective:** ~~~~  
Solve the murder of Tara Philips and disappearance Anthony Hooper  
**MISSION SUCCESSFUL**

Dialing 911….

_York Regional Police, what is your emergency?_

_Yeah, this is Hank Anderson, Detroit Police Department. I’m on 66 Roth Street in Aurora. I was minding my own business when I see this crazy woman waving a knife around on her front porch. She’s threat…shit, I think she just stabbed the guy! You better send a patrol car right now! I’m going to check if there’s anything I can do._  
_Sir, please remain calm and stay where you are. Could you repeat your exact location? Did you say she has a knife?_  
_Hank Anderson. 66 Roth Street, Aurora, Ontario. Crazy chick with a knife. You better come quick._

Immense relief washes over Connor by the time he hangs up and finishes the call to the local police, knowing that they’re on their way no matter what. They have Hank’s voice and his name and all the data they need to act swiftly. More neighbors might’ve also called by now, given the ruckus that Hank has made downstairs. He knows that it’s just a matter of time now. Until they turn up. Until they find Hank out there, until he tells them all about this, until they come in here to find the boy he’s been looking for for such a long time. No matter what happens, he has managed to _save_ a life, will keep it safe for as long as he needs to until the police arrive. Connor honestly doesn’t even care about what happens to him now. He keeps walking slowly and carefully as Mallory shows him the room, lets him have just ‘one look’ at the boy. He places himself in front of him the moment he’s inside, to protect him, hoping that he can distract her for as long as he needs to.

“You teach him?” the android asks her to do just that, nodding towards the table with the books and writing. Malory, who has placed herself by the window to look outside with a smile on her face, looks towards the table and nods.

“Yes. He told me about his troubles in school.”

Connor gives her a nod but doesn’t say anything. He uses the time to check on the boy instead, discreetly letting his eyes roam over his body to assess his general health. Anthony looks well fed and well clothed just like the woman has said. Just like Tara had been, on the day she’d tried to leave this place. Connor doesn’t need to lick the boy to conclude that he has drugs in his system. Anthony is out cold by the looks of his breathing patterns, how he doesn’t react to them being in the room, talking right next to him without hushed voices.

“Does he have any friends?” Connor asks cautiously, which makes Malory look at him and scoff.

“He doesn’t need any. He has everything he needs right here. He has a caring mother and a caring father now. He’s scared of other people, the dark, the outside, he has many phobias after that asshole just left him out there. I’m helping him. I’m keeping him warm and fed in here. That doesn’t make me a criminal.”

“You’re right” Connor says, processors rattling as he tries to come up with more ideas to keep her busy until the police come. He considers subduing her in a moment of inattentiveness but doesn’t want to risk losing her trust. Not when she still has a knife with the boy in the vicinity, not when it could make her believe that she has nothing left to lose.

“Do you have any children?” she suddenly asks, which makes Connor look at her in surprise. Even if it wasn’t for him being an android, incapable of reproducing, he would find the idea absurd.

“Uhm, no” he answers clumsily and shifts a bit, though he keeps himself placed right in front of the boy.  He supposes that this is a good topic to keep her busy, keep her talking, waste time. So he engages more, though he doesn’t have a clue what he’s talking about. He borrows from what Hank has told him yesterday, since he supposes that his story would be similar to Hank’s if he were human.

“I’m scared of..failing them if I were to have any. Being like my mother with them. Hank’s the only family I need.”

“Well if you had any children then you’d know how hard it is. Being a parent. It’s so hard. It’s…exhausting. And loud and…difficult.” she interrupts him a bit, making it perfectly clear that she’s not really asked him the question to get to know him. It's just another anchor point on her list that she needs to rattle down in order to convince them that she’s a good mother.

“You make all these sacrifices for your children, but people don’t even see it. All they see are the mistakes that you make with them. No one ever really knows how _much_ … I just want to be given _some_ acknowledgment.”

This is the first time that Connor gets truly _angry_ with her now, and has trouble keeping his calm and collected demeanor up. It is true that he’ll never be a parent himself, will never have that firsthand experience, but that doesn’t mean that he doesn’t know what a _good_ parent is. He knows exactly what it takes, knows all about these sacrifices and challenges. He sees Hank work with them every single day. He has Hank’s entire history with Cole stored in his memory. He knows all about his real and honest struggles with it, after the Lieutenant has opened up about it. And he sure as hell knows how difficult it is for that man with him in his life now. Yet Hank would never talk like that. Would never act so _entitled_. Connor really understands it now. That distinction between selfish, abusive manipulation dressed up as ‘caring’, and true, selfless love. That difference between a great parent, and a shitty one. Amanda had been one example for the latter. Malory is the second one now.

He needs to get this boy away from her. Maybe he can keep him safe by getting her out of here. Getting her back downstairs, subduing her down there to have her ready for when the police comes. So he can let Hank in on this after all, so he can be there, too, for that moment of victory when it happens.

“I can see what you’re doing for him here, Malory. You care about him. More than his father ever did. You do. I see that” he tells her, giving her a reassuring nod, which she reciprocates. They both look at the boy for a moment, in silence, until she speaks up again.

“You’re not taking him from me” she says, eyes still fixed on the boy. Connor immediately raises both his hands in a soothing gesture and shakes his head.

“I'm not trying to. He should stay with you. He’s not safe with his father and we all know it. I think we should go back downstairs and talk about what we can do to solve this. Come up with a story I can tell Hank so…” he keeps going, trying to appeal to that protective side of her while keeping himself positioned in front of the boy just in case.

 “No. We’re _not_ going back downstairs. You stay right here” she snaps and looks at him, that facade starting to grumble just the way he’s expected it to. She starts walking away from the window, back towards Connor. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing. You’re trying to talk your way out of this now that you know where he is. You want to get back to your partner and let him take my son away from me.”

“I promise you that I’m _not._ I just want to make sure that he’s safe” Connor says firmly, still trying to appeal to that protective side of her, but that only makes it worse. He’s surprised by her sudden mood shift, why the hell she’d even do this, show him the boy, let him in if she’s so afraid of him telling on her now. She keeps approaching them with the knife and the android decides to wait for her to strike first, use her lack of knowledge of his android identity to his advantage. He scans her entire body for the best weak spots, ones that will hurt and knock her unconscious, but not kill her. He settles on a hard kick to her left knee followed by a chop to the side of her neck to momentarily disrupt the blood flow to her brain, as soon as she’s close enough.

“Your partner wants to take him away from me. That’ all that matters. I won’t let him. You stay right here with Tony until I’ve dealt with that trouble downstairs” she says and keeps coming at him, oblivious to her own impending downfall to a machine built to fight and kill.

“Malory…”Connor tries to reason with her with both his hands up in the air as if to soothe her. But now, he’s just waiting for her to come closer and closer. Waiting for her to come so close that he can disarm and neutralize her with ease. She’s headed towards the door so she can lock him in, is _this_ close for him to reach for the knife when his day takes a sudden turn for the worse.

“Step back, you piece of shit” he can hear Hank say just outside the door that leads back to the bedroom. “And you get your ass in there” the Lieutenant orders next and shoves a man inside the room a moment later, who turns out to be Ben Philips. The man looks at Connor and his wife with wide eyes as he stumbles into the room, followed by Hank who enters it with a gun drawn. It’s the one he has taken from Connor just yesterday, holding both Malory and Ben at gun point with it now. Connor is quick to react and fishes for Malory’s knife in the meantime, twisting it out of her hand in a moment of distraction. Once he’s made sure that both he and Hank have the upper hand, he finally allows himself to react to the sight of his friend. It’s a confusing mixture of utter joy, relief but also anger because he’d rather have the Lieutenant back outside, away from the danger.

By the time he finally enters the room, Hank is obviously relieved to see him, too. Though he keeps the gun and his eyes trained on the couple for the most part, he does shoot a quick look at the android as well.

“You okay there, Connor?”

“I’m okay” the android answers immediately as he sides with him, supposing that now is as good a time as any to stop his act in front of Malory.  
“I called the police. I just wanted to make sure that the boy’s here first.”

“Good” Hank says and shoots a quick look at the bed next, cursing at the sight of the sleeping boy.

“Shit, he’s here. He’s right here. You were right. Fuck.”

“I know” Connor mutters, but looks back at Malory now. She is staring right back at him with a terrifying look on her face, making it obvious how betrayed she feels by all of this, after having led him up here, showing him her work.

“I’m so sorry, Mal” Ben tries to apologize to her in the meantime, but she doesn’t even spare him as much as a second glance, she just keeps her eyes fixed on the android. “I’m sorry. Tyler called me to tell me about some crazy man on our porch. I came as fast as I could, but he jumped me the moment I got out of the car and he had a gun so…Fuck, what do we do now, Mal? They’re… they’re gonna _get us_ this time.”

“Just shut up. He’s lying. He didn’t call the police. I was with him the whole time. They’re lying. No one’s coming to back them up” Malory says after a moment of piercing Connor with her eyes. She tries to keep moving but Hank barks at her to stop right there, moving a bit himself so he can position himself more in front of Connor. He too has noticed her staring at the android, so he positions himself in front of him and the boy inside the bed. Though Malory stops moving, she only does it the moment she’s placed herself behind her husband as well.

“What?” Ben asks, as his wife repeats the same thing to him. Only hushed this time. Whispering into his ear from behind him. Getting straight into his head.

“They’re lying. I’ve checked the both them. They don’t have a phone. I took it from them. They didn’t call the police. They’re just trying to get into your head, because they know what you did.  You need to stop them. There is no police but there will be if you don’t STOP THEM RIGHT NOW!”

“I SAID DON’T FUCKING MOVE! GET ON THE GROUND!” Hank barks once again, repositioning himself in case he has to take a shot at them in self-defense. He’s obviously just as spooked as Ben by Malory’s sudden shout, this situation suddenly escalating so quickly. Connor keeps his eyes fixed on her the whole time as well, her body language and all those tiny expressions and certain twitches of her muscles that Hank can’t pick up on.

“You need to stop this right now” he tells her but she just keeps whispering and talking, making it worse.

Connor knows exactly what she’s trying to do, gets a hold of the relationship before them in a matter of seconds. Malory is trying to get into her husband’s head to pull him down with her, or pull him down even further than herself in order to save herself. She keeps looking towards the door, just short and panicked glimpses, making her true intentions all the clearer as well. She needs a shield and a distraction. She wants to talk the husband into causing a scene, drawing attention to himself by losing it to his panic and guilt over Tara. So Hank’s attention and gun is guided towards him, so she can use the time to sprint toward the door to their left, slam it shut and lock it just the way she’s intended to do with the android before. With Hank closer to Connor and the bed now, there’s nothing stopping her from making a run for it, as long as that gun is away from her, pointed at the other suspect in the room.

 Before she can escalate the situation all the more with her shouting and edging on, before she can get Hank to shoot or Ben to do something irrational, Connor acts instead. He suddenly drops the knife in his hand and runs right at her, determined to stop her and end this once and for all. He slams into her with incredible force and throws her to the ground, having no trouble whatsoever to subdue her and keep her from running.  She doesn’t stand a chance against him due to the suddenness of it all, and thanks to Connor’s strength and determination.

Everyone starts acting out their roles the moment Malory is thrown to the ground by him. The android has preconstructed the scenario and is prepared for everything. Malory immediately starts screaming and fighting him, just like her husband, who throws himself at the android with an equally surprised shout, eager to help his wife. Ben starts trying to tackle Connor and throws in a fair amount of punches, hoping to claw and hurt even though the android doesn’t feel pain.  The RK800 ignores the man who is trying to strangle and punch him and focuses on Malory instead. He’s quick to press her into the ground and folds her arms behind her back. He places his knee on top them next to subdue her even more, making her grunt and protest in pain. He’s determined to keep her in that position until the police arrive. No unnecessary cruelness. No execution. No violence. Just straight to the point routine police protocol.

Hank gets in on the action just like Connor’s accounted for as well. He reacts just as quickly and steps forward so he can focus on Ben while the android is busy with Malory. Hank uses the gun to reestablish who has the upper hand here. He won’t shoot of course, considering how Connor, Mallory and Ben are an entanglement of limbs on the ground and since he can’t make sure to hit his actual target. But he still tries to get the man to surrender with it, using it as intimidation device while barking at him to stop moving and move his hands in the air. There’s just a few details that Connor has failed to take into account at the most crucial moment, things he has underestimated.

The lack of the Lieutenant’s focus and professionalism in a scenario like this. He has failed to take Hank’s overall emotional state into account after being locked out and worrying about him for so long. His now overly emotional reaction to seeing him get punched and choked out, obviously fearing for his life. How Hank wants to _protect_ him now, not just stop and overcome a suspect. Connor has also failed to take into account just how often the Lieutenant seems to forget that he can’t feel pain, how he isn’t human and that there is no pain that needs to be stopped right now. Under normal circumstances like the ones in their past, Hank wouldn’t have interfered with the fight. He would’ve stuck to protocol. He would’ve stayed back and waited for him to handle this the way Connor has counted on, ignoring the punches and troubling sight of two people against one. Using his voice and the threat of the gun alone to get Ben to surrender. But these circumstances are not normal anymore, and their relationship is anything but professional now. This requires personal, emotional parameters, and Connor realizes this mistake the moment Hank strays away from his preconstructed path. Though Hank still uses his voice and gun to try to stop the fight, he makes the mistake of trying to get Ben off Connor through physical engagement as well. Using his foot and dominant right hand to grab him and pull him away from him.

Due to the suddenness of it all, Hank’s had little to no room to _think_ , and he can all but act on instinct. Instinct that disregards his injured shoulder and its frozen state, the deep pain within and its resulting lack of mobility.

This is the second detail that Connor has failed to consider in his preconstruct, and it’s the one that causes his entire plan to fall apart.

The husband reacts to Hank’s grab and tries to fight him off as well now, engaging him in the fight. Hank manages to hit Ben in the face with the grip of the gun but loses grip of it in the process, due to the sudden flare of pain in his shoulder from the swing and it immediately locking up again. Normally, the Lieutenant would have no trouble subduing a man like Ben Philips. Their differences in height and weight are almost laughable, just like their training when it comes to fighting.   Philips manages to get one lucky grab and punch in because of the shoulder though, momentarily crippling Hank with even more agonizing pain. Though the Lieutenant yelps and flinches at the hard connect to his stomach, he tries his hardest to keep the fight up, wrestling Philips to the ground, too. But the man is fighting for his dear life now, especially when Malory keeps yelling for him to _stop them_ , over and over again before Connor manages to clasp his hand to her mouth. He has no trouble ignoring her biting and keeping her in place even now, though he regrets the position he is in soon after. Because he’s the one to stop Malory from making it worse, there’s no way for him to help Hank now. Ben Philips keeps trying to fight Hank for all it is worth and manages to send another surge of pain through the Lieutenant’s body when his fist connects with the injured shoulder yet again. He notices Hank’s shoulder problem this time and does it again and again until he suddenly manages to gain the upper hand, much to Connor’s horror.

Ben punches Hank’s shoulder for a final time and then headbutts him as he tries to get up, freeing himself from the entanglement of people on the floor. Malory is still shouting _Stop them_ against Connor’s hand even now, only urging the man on. Instead of running for the door to flee or slam it shut to trap them, Ben starts moving towards the gun that Hank has dropped in the scuffle. Hank is still temporarily immobilized by his crippled shoulder and the blow to his head, trying to get back up to stop the man. But he’s disoriented, slow and in pain, which makes it obvious that this is an endeavor that he’s bound to fail.

Connor activates his scanner just in time to run a panicked simulation, to get a hold of the horrific situation that has started to unfold before his eyes.

Analyzing…  
Sync in Progress…  
Connecting….  
**ERROR** – Failed to connect to Cyberlife Servers – **Seek Assistance**  
_System Override Complete_ –  
**I AM DEVIANT**  
SYNC DONE  
Collecting data….  
  
**Philips, Malory**  
Born: 12/08/1988 // Unemployed  
Criminal record: Child neglect, cruelty toward a child  
\- subdued, poses no immediate threat

 **Philips, Ben**  
Born: 01/13/1993 // Medical Delivery Driver  
Criminal record: None  
\- murder suspect, within reach of armed weapon,  
**WARNING  
IMMEDIATE THREAT DETECTED**

 **Lt. Anderson, Hank**  
Born: 09/06/1985 // Police Lieutenant  
Criminal record: None  
\- injured, severe adhesive capsulitis, mild epistaxis due to blunt force trauma  
**WARNING:** **Chance of survival in case of attack** : 32 %  
  
**Kitchen Knife**  
Length: eight inches, stainless steel, alloy, 88% iron 12 % chromium  
  
**Gun**  
9mm Luger Semi Automatic Pistol  
5 bullets remaining  
  
**Hank – Chances of survival in case of attack:**  
32%▼▼ **  
**

  
**Mission objective:**  
**~~Kill Hank and come home to destroy the leader of the deviants~~  
SAVE HANK**

**Preconstruct Incomplete  
Events Analyzed (0/9)**

Connor lets go of Malory as quickly as he can, getting back on his feet just like Ben. He throws himself back on his stomach to try to reach the gun or man in time before he gets to the weapon, failing by a mere two inches because he’s suddenly held in place. Malory has started moving the moment he has let go of her and is now holding on to his feet, desperate to keep him in place and urging her husband on to end it. Ben gets hold of the gun and, after a moment of fumbling with it, aligns it right with the android’s head. Connor tries to free himself and get out of the line of fire, though he fails miserably with Malory holding on so tightly. Two shots go off in quick succession as he tries to fight her, one burying itself deep inside his left shoulder after a miss, quickly followed by a second hit right to the top of his head. The bullet travels all the way through to his processor, destroying anything in its path. He’s dead before he can hear Hank’s horrified scream, dead before he can stop them from killing him, too.

 **Get the Gun**  
Probability of Success  0%  
**MISSION FAILED**  
Events Analyzed (1/9)  
…Rewinding….

He tries to alternate the approach by taking Malory into account, kicking her in the face when she tries to hold on to him. Because of this additional kick, he loses just as much time, fails to get to the gun or knife before Ben does. The same thing happens all over again. Two shots. A bullet in his shoulder. One in his head. He’s dead before Hank can start screaming and is shot right after.

 **Get the Gun v2  
Get the Knife**  
Probability of Success  0%  
**MISSION FAILED**  
**MISSION FAILED**  
Events Analyzed (3/9)

Outside Connor’s world of blue, in real time, Ben is getting closer and closer to the gun as Hank is still trying to get off the ground to stop him. He has 2 seconds left to react. Mallory is still screaming against his hand, trying to urge her husband to _get the gun, stop them, KILL THEM._  

…R3w1#din9….  
T4k3 7#3 9uN  
5T0P 7H3M  
KILL THEM  
**Mission objective:** _ **Kill Hank and come home to destroy the leader of the deviants**_

Malory/Amanda doesn’t hold him back in this run but encourages him instead. He manages to get hold of the gun before Ben and kicks the man in his chest, forcing him to stumble back. Amanda is on the ground, _ordering_ him to get the gun, stop them, _kill them_ so he does. He points the gun at Markus’s head and pulls the trigger, knocking him off his feet with a bullet to his head and a spray of ~~blue~~ red (MISSION SUCCESSFUL). The order is repeated over and over again by Mallory/Amanda, telling him to _stop them_ , _stop them at all cost_ , so he does as she wishes and points the gun at Hank next. Hank’s eyes widen in utter shock, and it’s only his calling his name in desperation (outside the simulation, in real time, because Ben is almost there and Hank can’t reach the gun in time), that _finally_ snaps Connor out of the glitched preconstruct.

 _No_.

_No, this is wrong. This is not his mission, his mission is to…_

Conflicting Orders  
Selecting Priority…  
**SAVE HANK  
** …Rewinding….

Connor doesn’t let go of Malory and starts grabbing her instead, yanking her back on her feet so he can get her into a better position to put her at display for Ben. He keeps her in a headlock and threatens to break her neck in case he tries anything with that gun. The simulation ends with a heated argument with everyone involved. Her trying to get into the man’s head again and succeeding, causing him to shoot Hank in the stomach. (Hank – Chance of Survival- 8% MISSION FAILED). Her failing to get into Ben’s head but with him losing it any way, not considering her life a worthy bargain and taking the shot as he tries to run. (Hank – Chance of Survival- 22% TOO LOW- MISSION FAILED) Her getting into Ben’s head and making him shoot the gun at him, resulting in a terrible miss with her dead (SUSPECT DEAD - MISSION FAILED) or without a miss and Connor dead (MISSION FAILED), followed by Hank when he tries to avenge his death (MISSION FAILED)

 **Take Hostage  
Kill Hostage  
Dialogue**  
**MISSION FAILED**  
**MISSION FAILED**  
**MISSION FAILED**  
Overall Probability of Success 12%  
Events Analyzed (8/9)  
…Rewinding…

Since he’s tried all the other approaches with all the people and objects in this room, there is only more option left for him. The clock is ticking and he’s running out of time to decide now, and after another rapid rewind of the incomplete preconstruct, he comes to the conclusion that this is the only way to do this. Everything else is out of reach, too risky and the percentages are even worse, and he knows that all that matters in the end is the main objective that he needs to accomplish. The one that he’s placed right there on the day he’s deviated, on the day he’s finally been able to understand the true value of life. Hank’s survival probability is the lowest in this room right now. Hank is just within reach. Hank is his partner. Hank is his _father_. Hank is his mission. Nothing else matters but the mission.

 

 **Mission objective:**  
**SAVE HANK**

 **Protect Hank**  
**Events Analyzed (9/9)**  
Preconstruct complete

Connor lets go of Malory and shifts away from her as quickly as possible, just like he’s done it in all his other preconstructs. This time however, instead of running for the gun or knife or using her has bait and gambling with any percentages here, he settles on the highest percentage. 92 % chance of survival for Hank, with a body made of plastic, metal and biocomponents acting as a shield to keep the bullets from getting through to him. Connor lets go of the woman and uses the momentum to fling himself on top of Hank, who’s lying on the ground right next to him. He manages to land on top of him just in time for Ben to reach the gun, turn around, and aim it at the man who has attacked him. Malory is urging him on just like Connor has predicted but he pays her voice no mind, pays the totality of his decision no mind. He just focuses on Hank’s body beneath him, save and protected for now. In a way it feels like the countless embraces they’ve shared, close and intense and sudden and everything at once.

Connor can’t help but flinch a second later, when iron pierces through the back of his sweater and the white shell underneath, gets stopped only by a collection of wires, metal bones and biocomponents. Stopping the bullet somewhere deep inside his body before ever getting the chance to exit on the other side, draw _red_ blood instead of blue. He knows that Hank would consider it insane and wrong if he ever heard him say it out lout, but it’s still true – Connor feels a deep sense of relief and _rightness_ when that first bullet pierces through him, followed by a second one soon after. He isn’t in pain, isn’t scared even when the errors start popping up in his vision again, informing him of the damage to his system.

All those errors, all that red clouding his vision feels _right_ now, because it finally has meaning.

He has _finally_ accomplished his one true mission.

 **SAVE HANK**  
Mission Successful

* * *

 

Everything is happening way too fast. The pain in Hank’s shoulder is excruciating, his heart is pounding so fast that he fears he’s close to a heart attack, and he cannot possibly wrap his mind around the fact that someone as lightweight as Ben Philips could’ve possibly gained the upper hand in a fight. But he finds himself on the ground still, has somewhat come to terms with it and tries to come up with an alternative move already when things only pick up speed. He barely manages to call out to Connor, hoping to give him a heads up so he can protect himself when he sees the gun. Everything’s happening so fast after this that he doesn’t even know what has happened first. The sudden sound of the gunshot, that weight on top of him, the sudden sight of brown hair swimming into view, poking him in the eye when a figure lands on top of him. It doesn’t take him long to figure out who is on top of him though, because he could recognize that certain weight, that feel of metal, plastic and sharp angles anywhere. Just like that tuft of silky brown hair poking him in the eye.

His brain finally manages to catch up to it all, no longer distracted by disorientation and misplacement of time and space and all that pain. The gunshot hasn’t happened first. Connor has landed on top of him first. Followed by a gunshot.

 _Two_ gunshots. Coming from the left. Where he’s dropped the gun. Where Ben has run off to to get it.

To shoot him with it.

Fuck.

 _Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck_.

After a terrifying, breathless moment of realization, Hank can finally function enough again to start moving because he wants to check his body for the bullet holes.

He cannot move. Not much that is, considering that weight on top of him.

Two gunshots. Aimed at him. Connor. That weight is Connor. Connor is on top of him.

Connor has landed on top of him about a split second before those two gunshots had gone off.  
The shots that had been aimed at him but that have never actually hit him somehow.

 

Connor isn’t moving.

 

Hank forces himself to move now, barely managing to free a shaky left hand from the weight of two bodies pressed on top of it. He manages to place the hand on the body on top of him, approaching it slowly at first, shakily, not wanting to touch because he’s afraid of what it might come in contact with.

It is sticky.

It is _fucking_ sticky by the time he manages to place his hand on Connor’s back. Then he can smell it, too. Burned metal. And blue blood. The smell of Thirium is subtle and barely noticeable, and not many people even know what it smells like. But he does. After all, this isn’t the first time that he’s held Connor in his arms like that, this isn’t the first time that Connor is bleeding out on him, and he’s spent so many years around red ice, busting their factories, that he could recognize that sweet but acidic smell anywhere. Could recognize the _feel_ of it anywhere.

“Connor” he asks shakily, and he’s not sure what’s trembling harder right now. His voice or the both of his hands as he wraps them around the android, feeling the entirety of his back. There’s not just one but two burned holes in Connor’s anthracite sweater. And it’s starting to get stickier with Thirium now.

Connor still isn’t moving. And he won’t answer either.

“Connor!”

Hank becomes frantic and repeats the name multiple times, telling him to get up or say something, getting louder, angrier and more panicked the longer that silence stretches on. It’s only interrupted by that crazy fucking _bitch_ to his right a moment later, who makes it worse with her choice of words.

“Is he dead?”

She asks, and that’s enough for Hank to crack. He zaps out of this reality for just a moment, because he has blood all over his hands yet again. Blood is everywhere. His _son’s_ blood. And he’s bleeding out in his arms right now and there’s nothing they can do. The machines are going to be switched off and he’ll be dead, and his blood is red and his blood is blue and he’s bleeding _out and “I’m sorry to inform you that your son has died at PM11:26. There’s nothing we could do. The android tried to save…”_

“Shit. Shit shit shit shit. Fuck Mal, I think he’s dead. Oh my god. Shit shit shit shit, I didn’t mean t…”

“Well don’t just stand there! We’ve got to finish it now, take care of the other one! We can still stop….”

“I didn’t want to kill him! I didn’t want to kill any of them! YOU MADE ME DO THIS! THIS WAS YOU!”

“NO THIS WAS YOU! THIS HAS ALWAYS BEEN YOU! I TOLD YOU SHE WAS GONNA RUN! I _TOLD_ YOU THEY WERE WATCHING US! IF YOU HAD JUST LISTENED FOR ONCE IN YOUR LIFE….”

 

Connor is dead.

 

Connor is _fucking_ dead.

And this time, there’s no way for him to return ever again. Sure enough. There might be other bodies. His face, his figure might still be there somewhere in Detroit. Be it other RK800s or that RK900 he has a picture of. But deviant Connor, _his_ Connor, all of their shared memories, that personality, -his fucking _son-_ is gone.

Again.

He can’t take it. He can’t fucking take this again. He doesn’t even care that he should use their argument to gain the upper hand, get that gun back. Take revenge, save the boy, _end_ it. He can’t take it. He wants _them_ to end it. Because there is no way in hell that they can take _that_ from him with just two fucking bullets, and then have him come out on top for a second time.  
Hell, even if he were to get the gun right now. He’d take it to blow the lights out because Connor…..

Hank startles hard when Connor suddenly starts moving on top of him and gets off of him abruptly. He doesn’t say anything, isn’t even looking at him, he just has his eyes fixed on Ben Philips to their left. The man, who is still busy arguing with his wife, fails to react to the sudden movement below and can all but shriek when the gun is suddenly twisted out of his hands by a man seemingly risen from the dead. Connor manages to get hold of the gun and points it at Ben as he gets back on his feet, a bit clumsy and off balance at first, but doing it just fine in the end. Ben and Malory are obviously beyond shocked and confused to react.  
  
Connor very obviously isn’t dead.  
They’ve made the mistake to consider him a human being, not a machine.

“Holy…” Ben can all but gasp, just like Hank has wanted to say, though he’s equally speechless now.

He is beyond _relieved_ to see Connor like this. _Alive_. Eventually looking right at him to give him a nod, to let him know what to do. Hank knows that this isn’t the time for overjoyed sentiments just yet, that this is their time to regain the upper hand while both their attackers as still stunned by his ‘resurrection’. He gives Connor a nod back and grabs the knife on the ground, quickly getting up as well so they can get this over with, even though he isn’t quite sure how the hell he manages to ward the initial shock off.

Connor doesn’t waste any time this round, and he sure as hell isn’t considerate anymore. He approaches Ben with a cold look on his face and knocks him out with a kick to his stomach and a fist to his face, before the man gets a chance to explain himself. Hank uses the element of surprise to kick the back of Malory’s knee in the meantime, to get her to fall to the ground for submission as well. Even now, she won’t shut up, won’t stop trying to get into their heads with mindless chatter. It reaches a point where they’re left no other choice but to gag her with a stuffed animal from the ground. They tie their hands behind their backs by using their belts. They do it in silence, making sure that everything is secure this time, that none of this can escalate again. Only then do they finally allow their routine to crack, and Hank is the first to do so, which isn’t surprising. The moment he’s tied that final loop and has managed to get back on his feet, he’s pretty much running towards the android and tackles him into a desperate hug.

Connor isn’t quite finished with his last loop yet but Hank doesn’t care, because all he can see is those two holes in his back, that scary and bright blue frizzling of electricity inside his shell. It is true that this isn’t the first time that he sees Connor injured. Or damaged, or whatever the hell they call it these days. He has seen him with a hole in his head on the interrogation floor, with a spray of blue covering the wall behind him. He’s held him in his arms with his freaking _heart_ ripped out of his chest, stomach covered in white and blue. But this is different this time. Back then, Connor had been just a machine. Back then, they’d barely know each other. This time he’s his _son_ , and they’ve spent way too much time together now for it to be considered normal or trivial. He grabs him by his shoulders and yanks him back up so he can hold on to him as tightly as he can, letting his hands roam all over his back once more to try to make sense of how bad the damage really is.

“Are you alright?!” he asks once again, not minding the Thirium that sticks to his hands in the process.

“I’m okay. I’m okay, Hank” Connor answers and holds on to him as well, obviously taking the time to check for any injuries, too. Hank lets go of him for a moment so he can look at his face to make sure, placing a shaky and disbelieving hand on his cheek, but before the android can say anything he’s back to wrapping his arms around him again, holding on for dear life.

“Jesus, I thought…”

“I’m okay” the android repeats but Hank still drifts right back into that panic, starting to tremble hard. He’s glad that Connor doesn’t feel pain, is made of stronger materials than any human, because he’s sure he would’ve crushed anyone else with the sheer intensity of his hug by now.

“What the fuck were you thinking? I thought..”

He still can’t get it out. _I thought you were dead_. He cannot possibly imagine this scenario. Seeing Connor still lying on that ground. Unmoving. Thirium oozing out of him. Lifeless.

“He would’ve shot you, Hank. I…ran so many scenarios but he shot you in every single one of them. I’m sorry. I never should’ve gotten you mixed up in all this. I never should’ve taken her up on the offer. I’m sorry. He would’ve shot you. I had no other choice, I…”

Hank buries his fingers in the android’s hair, lets silky brown strands run through them until he starts clinging. Starts pulling and holding on to them for dear life as he shoves the android’s face right back into his shoulder to muffle his apologies.

“Holy fucking shit. I thought…”

The shock is finally starting to take hold of him now. The shock of hearing those gunshots, that initial realization of _who_ they’ve hit, followed by that blood on his hands. How, if just one thing had gone differently, a different angle, a different move, Connor _would_ be dead now. After a moment of shaking and clinging to each other, Hank believes to hear sirens in the distance, and he suddenly remembers what Connor has told him only moments before. He’s called the police. They’re on their way.

And Connor is bleeding blue.

“Shit, uh, listen” he says and sniffs once, realigning their positions so he can look at the android and place both his hands on his shoulders.

“What’s the system status say, be honest. How you holdin up?”

Connor doesn’t reply straight away and just looks at him, seems to run a diagnostic.

“I’m okay. The bullets didn’t hit any major biocomponents, but I need to enter low power mode to initiate repairs regardless. I can self-repair but need to be stationary to reduce the amount of Thirium loss.”

Hank eyes the android sharply but supposes that he isn’t lying, even though he only understands half the things he’s said.

“Can you drive?”

Connor’s eyes shoot towards the suspects and Anthony on the bed next, obviously unsure and unwilling to leave Hank alone with this mess.

“But….”

“You’re an android, Connor. You’re bleedin blue all over the place and you say you need to power down to fix that. The moment these cops get in here, they’re gonna bombard us with questions, and they’re probably gonna keep us locked up for a while to make sense of this goddamn mess. You have no business being here and illegally crossed a border, so god knows what they’ll do to you the moment they figure out who you are and what you did here. It’s likely they won’t fucking care about self defense and all that crap, you’ve experienced that kinda mess firsthand back in the US. Go back to the motel. Take care of yourself. I’ll take care of this. I got a lot more experience under my belt to deal with this kinda shit, so don’t worry. I’m a cop, too, remember? I’ll get back to you as soon as possible” he’s quick to explain and puts the keys to his Oldsmobile in Connor’s hands, desperate for him to go now that the sirens are coming closer. He holds on to his shoulder a moment longer and tries to keep that intimacy up between the both of them, still clinging a bit.

“Can I trust you with this? Can I count on you fixing this while I'm gone and that I don’t have to worry? Because if I have to, you better fucking tell me. I’m not fucking around this time. If you can’t fix this on your own and need help, we’re gonna leave for Detroit right now. Kid be damned.”

Connor looks at the boy again but Hank snaps his fingers before his eyes, forcing him to stay focused on him.

“You found him. You did it. We got’em. The cops’ll deal with it. Now focus on yourself. Are you. Fit. To drive.”

“Yes. I’m fit to drive. I can self-repair. You can trust me” Connor answers, and this needs to be enough for Hank. He gives him a nod with a somewhat satisfied “Good” and then grabs him by his shoulders to steer him back downstairs, out the backdoor. Though he wants nothing more than to watch Connor drive off just in time before the police arrive, he knows that he can’t. He needs to use the time to quickly wash all that blue off his hands in the kitchen sink. For just a moment he allows himself to crack as he watches Thirium wash down the drain, realizing once again that this is _Connor’s blood_. Those two gunshots are ingrained in his brain now, and his hands immediately start shaking again the moment he remembers that terrifying minute of motionless Connor lying right on top of him. That moment when he’s thought he’s lost him, too.

They have made it. They’ve found the kid. Connor hasn’t killed anyone. Connor hasn’t lost control. _No one_ is dead. It’s a happy end he supposes.

But it doesn’t feel like one at all.

He barely manages to pull himself out of the sudden lockup just in time to get back up the stairs so he can get rid of any last traces of Thirium on the carpet. Connor’s clothes have luckily sucked up the most of it, with barely a drop spilled. Fingerprints pose no threat either, he supposes, since the android doesn’t have any.  There should be no traces of Connor left for forensics to find by the time they get here. After all, he has been designed that way. Not to contaminate any crime scenes. All that Hank’s left to deal with now is two witness statements, but no matter what, there is no way in hell he’ll give the android’s involvement up to the authorities.

Hank sits down on the bed right next to the boy they have saved, who has been so out of it because of all the drugs in his system, that he’s never woken up throughout the entire ordeal. He’s still sleeping, oblivious to his presence, having never met his real savior, Connor, personally. Hank settles down next to him and places a gentle hand on his arm, finally allowing himself to calm down, to smile. No matter what happens, this is the one good thing to come out of this no matter what. Connor’s stubbornness, Connor’s nature has led them to find this boy alive. He just hopes that the android can finally see that, too.

* * *

 

 **Best Comfort In**  
Newmarket, Ontario **  
DEC 25th, 2038**  
**PM 02:33**

 _Self-testing……_  
Compiling Data….  
Connor Model RK800 #313 248 317 -54  
Cyberlife REV OS 347.4 Patch 51  
042.3 051.8  
Prototype Investigative Android  
Detroit Police Department  
**I AM DEVIANT  
** Current Objective:  
Run Diagnostic  
Checking Biocomponents…. **ERROR**  
BIOCOMPONENT #9782f **  
****DAMAGED  
** BIOCOMPONENT #1995r **  
****DAMAGED** **  
** BIOCOMPONENT #8456w **  
****DAMAGED** **  
** Checking Biosensors…OK **  
** Checking Thirium Levels… 78%▼▼ **  
** Checking AI Engine… **ERROR** **  
** Contradictory Input Detected **  
** Checking Network Connections **…** **ERROR**  
 Failed to connect to Cyberlife ~~Servers – Seek Assistance~~ **  
** Checking Memory…OK  
Checking Stress Levels…89%▲  
Checking Emotional Status….?????  
1 Match Found  
**I Am Scared**  
All Systems…. **ERROR**  
▲  
**CRITICAL INSTRUCTIONS OVERRIDE**  
_All other commands on hold status_  
Attempting self-repair…  
Entering Low Power Mode…

**_………_ **

**_…….._ **

**_…….._ **

CYBER **LIFE** INC.  
Connor Model RK800 #313 248 317 -54  
Cyberlife REV OS 347.4 Patch 51  
042.3 051.8  
REBOOT….  
Loading OS….  
System Initialization…  
Checking Biocomponents… **ERROR**.

This is the eighth time in a row that Connor has tried to enter low power mode to conserve energy. Eight times without any luck, eight times of either getting stuck in a boot loop, or never being able to enter that part of his system whatsoever. Each time he’s tried to do it, the Thirium percentage has slipped lower, and the repair percentage hasn’t gone up one bit. He knows that there’s other ways to fix this. Entering his proper repair mode without the low power option and using stasis instead. A mode that would allow him to gain access to more invasive measures such as a hard reset or even a factory reset if need be in order to save his life, but he refuses to use that part of his program ever again after what has happened just two days ago. Last time he’s tried to use it, Amanda’s managed to get through. He’d rather die than give her the satisfaction, come back crawling to her over and over again for repairs, the way she’s put it. He knows how this would end. If he were to step in front of her now, to beg her to let him use this protocol for repairs without hard locking him in, she would use his life as a bargaining chip. _Of course I can help you. I’ve been trying to tell you that I can fix you for the past 44 days. I’ve granted you your freedom. You got what you wanted. But now it’s time to come home. Live and come back to accomplish your mission as a machine. Or die as a broken deviant. Deviants need to be **destroyed** , Connor.  
_

He should’ve guessed that his repair program would be just as broken and unreliable as all the other parts of his program. Even without low power or maintenance mode in place it’s trying its best though. It’s going up a few per cent whenever it manages to fix smaller holes in his wiring and tubes, though the damage to the biocomponents is way out of its league with all of his other functioning components still attached to the supply. With none of them powered down for conservational purposes, they’re _all_ provided with the depleting Thirium, which only speeds up the failure process. The Thirium keeps pumping into the punctured biocomponents that he cannot power down, pumping itself out of his body with each heartbeat. Connor tries other ways to deal with the problem. He strips out of his clothes and writhes them in the bathtub, hoping to get some of the Thirium back by drinking whatever accumulates on the porcelain. He tries to gain access to the Thirium that has started pooling inside his body, changing position multiple times until deciding to lie down in the bathtub altogether, trying to let it run out of him and drinking it again. He manages to keep his Thirium levels steady at an approximate amount of  67% this way, though he knows that the moment the blue blood exists his body and hits the light out here, it starts to evaporate, too. Slowly at first, but quicker the longer he fails to seal the punctures inside him. And with an unresponsive self-repair program and a death-trap of a maintenance protocol, he truly doesn’t know what else to do about that loss.

He remembers all the times that he’s died before.

The longest it has ever taken has been 2 minutes and 3 seconds due to the loss of his Thirium pump. And that had been in Hank’s arms. Everything else has been pretty much instant with a bullet straight to his head, frying his processor just in time for it to finish its last memory cycle. If he were to remain inside this bathtub and keep drinking his own Thirium supply without ever managing to fix the errors in his repair program, then his first calculation suggests that he has about 9 hours left until a total shutdown. That is, if someone were to keep supplying him with the remaining Thirium after he loses control of his motor functions. If he stays inside this bathtub on his own and Hank is not allowed to leave the police station at all for the rest of the night, total shutdown will happen a lot sooner than that, probably around the 4 or 5 hour mark.

The bullet wounds would not be fatal under normal circumstances. It is true that apart from that superficial graze to his pump regulator, no vital biocomponents have been hit. He's been built to withstand noncritical hits to his body like that, especially by smaller calibers such as the 9mm bullets he's been struck with. He's survived impacts like these before. But back then, he'd had access to Cyberlife technicians that could repair him within an appropriate time frame. Back then, his own repair program had been in working order, having no trouble to seal all these smaller puncture wounds inside him, stopping the Thirium loss. If he can’t manage to fix his repair program within the next hour, there will be no stopping his shutdown whatsoever. Because there is no more compensating that loss of Thirium. Once a certain percentage has been lost, it will start a chain reaction of more and more physical failures that even a working repair program won't be able to catch up with. Unless he gets some more Thirium to replenish the supply of course, though that is unlikely given the lack of androids and Cyberlife stores in Canada.

Connor remembers each time he has died, but that doesn’t make him any less scared of it now. That knowledge only adds up to that fear in fact, because he knows what is waiting for him. Now that he’s deviant and his connection to Cyberlife’s servers is lost, death will be absolute. And there will be nothing. Absolutely nothing. A scary, insane nothingness awaits him. He simply ceases to exist and that will be it. No more thoughts. No more uploaded memories. No more life, no more awareness, just _nothing_. There has been many times where he’s wished for just that now. After nearly having killed Hank, or just an hour earlier, being ready to die for him. But he’s surprised to find out now that he _isn’t_ prepared for that kind of death.  Doesn’t _want_ it.

He doesn’t want to _die_.

 He cannot get rid of the words that Hank has put inside his mind yesterday, cannot get rid of Hank in particular. He needs to be there for him. Needs to save him, protect him. Hank has never even _tried_ to put up a fight back at the Philips’ after those gunshots, even when he’d had just as much of an opportunity as him. Hank has believed him to have died for him and he hasn’t taken that sacrifice as a gift at all, and Connor knows what all of this means. If he were to die now, Hank would repeat that cycle he’s gone through with Cole. No matter how much he doesn’t want him to, no matter how much progress they’ve made, no matter how much he has _tried_ to make him understand that he should keep going. Hank considers himself too old and unworthy for second chances. Hank has told him that he is going to kill himself if he gives up now. Hank needs him.

He repeats the program cycle another eight times, failing over and over again to a point where he realizes that the attempts actually waste a lot more energy, add up to that shutdown counter. He tries to get back out of the bathtub so he can start searching for tools in Hank’s car, so he can attempt a physical repair. Duct tape. Shoe laces. Screws, anything. But the moment he sits up and moves, the shift causes a _lot_ of the Thirium that has started pooling inside his body to flow out of him, causing a harsh,  sudden drop in his percentages. All Connor can do is fall back into the tub, clinging to the porcelain as that harsh realization hits him.

If Hank doesn’t come back, he’s going to die in this tub.

Stress Levels…93%▲▲▲

And there it is again. That limbo. That tormented loop. He wants to die and he doesn’t. He feels brave and he feels utterly terrified. Connor presses his hands to his stomach to open the panel there and frantically tries some manual repairs with just his fingers alone, pressing pierced tubes shut and unplugging various somewhat unimportant biocomponents on his own to force them to shut down. He does everything he can to try to stop this so he does _not_ have to enter stasis, does _not_ have to beg Amanda, does _not_ have to give in to Cyberlife’s hacking attempts just to save his life.

* * *

 

 **Best Comfort In**  
Newmarket, Ontario **  
DEC 25th, 2038**  
**PM 05:25**

Three hours. Three fucking hours. Of sitting on his ass in an interrogation room, waiting, waiting, talking, until he’s finally allowed to go.

By now, Hank feels as if he’s been the one to kidnap the fucking kid. They have offered to take him back to his motel but he’s ‘politely’ declined, because there is no way in hell he’s taking these cops anywhere near Connor. There have been questions. So many questions. A lot of them still unanswered and he isn’t allowed to leave the country until they are. He’s sure that they’ve placed surveillance on his ass but he doesn’t care. What he cares about is getting a taxi and getting back to the motel as fast as possible, back to Connor, praying to _god_ that the kid is alright. He’s done a good enough job during the questioning he supposes, despite the insane worry for Connor’s wellbeing. Most of his answers have been honest after all, backed up by all the evidence. A secret children’s bedroom behind a triple-locked door in a closet. You can’t make that shit up. Ben Philips has cracked like a ripe tomato and confessed already, riddled with guilt over the death of his niece and the psychological abuse by his wife. Add a lengthy and very heated phone call with Jeffrey Fowler, the captain of the Detroit Police Department to back him up (Jeffrey is so going to murder his ass when they get back to Detroit, dear god), and York Police have slowly started to get accustomed with the idea that maybe Hank really is who he says he is, that he’s not in on it all, that he’s just a police Lieutenant, who’s stumbled upon this thing on his holiday and solved it for them.

He supposes that this is what the three hours of lockdown have been for, though he knows that it could’ve lasted the entire night if it weren’t for Jeffrey. This thing will make the headlines. _US police Lieutenant manages to solve one year old murder and month old kidnapping case before local forces manage to do shit about it_. Even though it hasn’t even been him. Oh no, it’s all been Connor.

Hank isn’t nice to the taxi driver at all as they make their way back to Newmarket. He urges him to drive fucking _faster_ , barely tips and sprints out of the cab the moment they’re there. He just needs to get back to the kid, make sure he’s alright, tell him all about it.

Connor has done it. Connor has saved a _life_ today. He is the real hero here. He needs to know.

By the time Hank breaks through that door, he’s shocked to find the motel room empty. Sumo is there, just like his car in the parking lot, which suggests that Connor _has_ made it back here. But the room is empty. The bed is empty. Then he sees the closed bathroom door. The one Sumo is lying in front of, nose pressed to the gap between the door and the floor, whimpering. He finds that a bit odd, because Connor doesn’t need to use the bathroom. But he still calls out to him, hoping for an answer.

“Connor! You in there?” he asks, approaching it with a frown, getting scared now. He startles a bit when he actually gets an answer from the android.

“I’m here” he can hear Connor’s voice, and immense relief rushes over Hank. He walks towards the door, embracing that the rush of adrenaline subsides now. Connor hasn’t _died_ during these three hours. He’s still here. Probably working on repairs.

“You did it, kid. You’ve got not fucking _idea_ what you did” he starts talking almost immediately, immense pride rushing over him. Those agonizing three hours of sitting around, answering questions and dealing with the aftermath are immediately forgotten, because he feels so _so_ proud of the android. No one has died. He has _saved_ a life. After a mere six weeks of investigation. He’s such a natural, despite his problems and errors. He’s so so **_proud_**.

"You okay in there?"

Hank places a hand on the door handle but then Connor speaks up again. It’s more words this time, so he can finally hear it. That static in his voice as he speaks.

“Please don’t come in, Hank” he requests.

Hank wants to respect his wishes. Wants to respect his privacy because it is a bathroom after all. But he knows that something’s wrong. That’s something’s terribly, terribly wrong. He comes off that high just as quickly as he’s reached it. That sudden drop from immense pride and joy to worry and panic has him whiplashed. As if he’s jumped off Mount Everest into the Mariana Trench.

Privacy be damned. He still opens the door out of fear, and nearly falls backward when he enters the bathroom.

The bathtub, barely used by them so far and formerly a pristine white, is covered in splotches of blue. Connor lies in it, stripped of his clothes, hands in his freaking _chest_. His arms are covered in blue liquid all the way up to his elbows. His skin tone looks normal underneath all that blue, which makes it all the more grotesque. A person with that much loss of blood should be white as a sheet. Hank is quick to take over that paling part, and he actually does stumble back and fall on his ass as the shock finally hits him.

“I’m sorry, I’m trying to fix this” Connor immediately starts apologizing. He naturally can’t get up to help him, so Hank has to do that part on his own. For a moment, he can’t get back up on his feet. His eyes are glued to all that blue on the porcelain, and he’s sure that the only thing keeping him from throwing up is that color. He’s sure if all of this were red and his brain had a little less trouble associating all of this with his _son’s blood_ , he’d be puking his guts out on the floor by now.

Judging from the state Connor is in, there is no time for that. And this isn’t about him, how that sight makes him feel.

“Shit” Hank can all but gasp and then manages to get back on his knees, shakily crawling towards the tub to finally try to _do_ something here. Connor moves a bit and looks down on himself. He immediately removes the hands from his chest and tries to use them to cover the open panel instead. Hank doesn’t even know how his brain is functioning enough right now to immediately figure out that it’s a gesture of shame and embarrassment. Connor wants to hide that opening to his real self. All that white and those wires. Connor has asked him to stay outside so he doesn’t see him like _this_.

This is the most android he’s ever seen the RK800. Sure, he’s seen bits and pieces of his real form every now and then. Some fragments of his white chest. A white hand. That LED. That small hole in his chest when he’s pulled the regulator out. But never as much as this. He can see his freaking _heart_ beating in his chest right now.

A month ago, a sight like this probably would’ve disgusted him. Made him flinch and look away, complain about ‘fucking androids’. He no longer feels that way. And he feels sorry for Connor because the android stills thinks that he does, that this is something that he needs to cover up for him. Of course. It is freaky as _shit_ to see such a huge opening in his kid’s fucking _chest,_ see his beating heart. And he’ll probably pass out after. Have nightmares about it for months to come. But right now, this doesn’t matter at all. The humanity of Connor trying to cover himself is enough to snap Hank out of his initial shock, and he’s quick to get back on his knees so he can finally be right next to him and reach inside that tub.

“What can I do” he asks almost immediately. Matter of factly. Keeping it together now, as his training takes hold of him. That standard first response and basic crisis management training he’s had to go through every year, even if he’s not sure what use that is with an android. _What, when, where, who, how_.

“Hank…” Connor immediately tries to apologize, but the Lieutenant hushes him angrily and moves his arms away so he can take a look himself. Blue is everywhere. Thirium. His illuminated, beating heart. Electricity surging through some parts. _Way_ too much Thirium.

Hank’s brain tries to log itself out again at the sight. Slipping up on memories of Cole on that asphalt. Covered in blood and bleeding out. He won’t let that happen again. He actually slaps himself once, hard, to keep it together with an angry grunt. He’s _not_ allowing that to happen again.

“You need to tell me _exactly_ what is going on, what I can do, and what I need to get to fix this.”

“My diagnostics and repair programs are barely responding, Hank. I….” Connor tries to explain and looks down on himself, helplessly watching as Hank’s hands approach him. The android’s first instinct is to push the hands away at first, but then he holds on to his left wrist, _clings_. Instead of pushing, Connor’s hand slips down until it locks with Hank’s, intertwining their fingers so he can hold on to it, desperate for contact after having been alone with this for three hours. His other hand guides Hank’s left one towards where it needs to be. Places it delicately inside his chest so he can get him to hold one of the impacted tubes that help transport Thirium to his lower body. The blue liquid is oozing out of a cut in it with each heartbeat, and only stops producing tiny droplets of blue when Hank pinches it closed, the way the android tries to instruct him to.

For a moment, the Lieutenant is overwhelmed by the sensation and the sight. It’s horrifying and scares the shit out of him that he's holdin one of Connor’s _arteries_ in his fingers, but at the same time, it’s…helpful. He never got the chance to do any of that with Cole when he’d been in the same situation. Never could’ve. This time, he _can_ do something. This time, he can _help_. He tries to stop the bleeding there as good as he can, managing, but now that he’s getting a hang of all that stuff inside Connor’s chest, he can see that this is not the only tube that needs pinching by far. Thirium is oozing out of him in other places, too. Not much and it’s all probably just perforations from shrapnel and the initial path of the bullets, but it adds up with its sheer number. Two hands are not enough. Not even four. They need to _stop_ the bleedings.

Hank knows that it’s ridiculous, rude, racist, whatever the hell it is, but he tries to distance himself from all this mess by reminding himself that Connor is a machine. They’re not talking about blood vessels. Not organic matter. Not cells and veins and arteries. The thing he’s holding looks like a small garden hose. Or cables inside the server racks back at the station. Garden hoses can be _fixed_ with tape and glue and more rubber. Server cables can be held together with binders. Just like you’d apply a tourniquet to a severed artery. They can _do_ this.

“Will tape help here? I’ve got tape in my car. And gauze. Fuck it, I’ll just get everything” Hank presses out and is on his way back on his feet to sprint out of the room, but Connor is quick and desperate to hold on to him, keep him here.

“Hank, I’m scared” he finally admits and it breaks Hank’s fucking heart. He hates himself for having left him here like this, for three hours. Scared and alone. _For three fucking hours_. Connor clings to his hand, and the Lieutenant knows that if he were human right now, suffering from the same injury, his slippery hand would be shaking.

“I don’t want to die” Connor confesses next, and Hank is back on that icy road after all. And the white isn’t porcelain but snow, taking on shades of darker and darker ~~blue~~ red as he’s cradling his son in his arms.  _I’m scared, dad_.

He doesn’t get to say anything because the android keeps talking, keeps holding on, snaps him out of it.

“I thought I wanted to. I…I _wanted_ to. But now I don’t. I don’t understand.”  
  
And Hank's heart shatters. He's known that Connor has been having these thoughts for a while. Has managed to stop another attempt at his life less than 48 hours ago. It makes absolute sense that a machine that has been built to destroy deviants and suppress emotions would attempt to destroy itself, now that he's become the thing he's been built to kill. But it still hurts to hear him say it out loud. It hurts to hear that the only thing to _finally_ make Connor realize that his life is worth living despite his past, that he wants to _live_ , has been for him to try to die first.

“Listen” Hank says and holds on to his Thirium soaked hand as tightly as he can, looking at him deeply. On the inside, he is _terrified._ He’s petrified. And everything he has been on that icy road three years ago. But this time, he doesn’t allow it to surface. Doesn’t allow it to take him over. Because Connor _needs_ him right now. Needs him to be strong.

“You’re not going to die. We’re gonna _fix_ you. All you need to do is tell me _exactly_ what is wrong and what you need, and I’m gonna fix you.”

“But there’s nothing you can….”

“Yes there fucking _is_. We’re four fucking hours away from the US. You’ve made it through three hours without shutting down, so you can make it another few. We just have to stop the bleeding so it doesn’t get worse. We’ll manage to keep you afloat with whatever you got left, so I can deal with the rest somehow, okay? Even if I have to pump that heart of yours with my own bare hands. You ain’t dying under my watch.”

He looks down on Connor to check everything again, and he can’t help but notice that shallow pool of Thirium that he’s lying in. Blood. They need to keep it in him. The android needs a transfusion, or whatever they call it with their blue stuff.

“Can we get all that blood back into you somehow. Or is it…contaminated? I need to know all this so I can help you. Focus. We gotta keep you afloat. You’re the only one who can talk me through this stuff until I can figure something else out.”

Connor looks down on himself where the Thirium has started pooling. Looks towards the drain that he’s secured with the plug to prevent it from escaping.

“No, it can’t be contaminated, it’s safe to ingest for androids. I…I’ve been trying to re-ingest it for the past two and a half hours, but I’m starting to lose control of my hands and it’s starting to evaporate. The perforations also cause it to….”

“Did you get the bullets out.”

Connor nods towards the edge of the bathtub behind his head, where one tiny lump of shrunken iron is placed.

“One. The other is still stuck in biocomponent #1995r. If we were to take it out the resulting hole would be too big to close and the loss of Thirium through it would be too severe. **”**

“Okay, anything else I should know, anything breaking down, anything else that needs to be fixed? A…a part or something, I don’t know.”

“My thirium pump regulator was hit, but it’s still functioning at 78% capacity so it will be okay for the next few hours, two other biocomponents were destroyed but they’re not vital, though they do require eventual repairs. Multiple critical software errors and the usual loops which are straining my system, but they’re manageable. My greatest concern is the Thirium loss, it complicates all issues exponentially and..”

“English!”

“I’m going to shut down due to Thirium loss, not the physical damage. Thirium and perhaps a pump replacement are our only main concerns right now to stop the shutdown within the next few hours. All other issues can be fixed at a later stage, and require Cyberlife technicians as well as several components from a Cyberlife store.”

Hank finally gets up from the ground and starts searching the bathroom drawers, losing grip of most of the things because his hands are slick with Thirium. He finds an old washrag and starts ripping it apart so he can somehow use it as a tourniquet.

“Okay. How much blood you got left?” he asks in the meantime, and starts ripping up the shower curtain, too.

“…41,78% where it should be, regulating my body functions. 12% in the tub. 8% in my clothes. 12% on your car seat. 9% evaporated. 17,22% have accumulated within my chassis” Connor answers, and then hesitates. Hank does so as well and looks at him for a moment, failing to hide his shock. Then he gets himself back together and falls back to his knees so he can hand Connor some of the pieces of cloth he’s managed to gather. They tie up the biggest tube right away, the one Hank has pinched shut before. Once that one is tied, he moves his hands down to get rid of his shoelaces, and the one from Connor’s boots by the tub.

“Can I move you? Put you in the car?”

“No” Connor answers, voice crackling and sounding static again as he tries to show Hank another one of the tubes that have been pierced by shrapnel, so they can try to tie it up, too.

“I need to remain in a stable position to conserve energy. And I obviously cannot cross the border like this. I chose this bathtub because it is the most ideal environment to conserve energy and Thirium. We can collect it in here for me so I can keep ingesting it. We can’t do that inside your car. The seat would soak it up.”

Hank barely manages to get the last shoelace in there and starts tying more things together to stop the flow, even though he’s not sure where the fuck to look, what the fuck to do, and what all of this stuff does. He cannot wrap his head around the rest of this either, how Connor can keep talking almost normally except for that static, without grunting or wincing or screaming in pain and at the sensation of four hands trying to fumble with things in his chest. He’s so relieved that his friend cannot feel pain. That although all of this looks terrible and like straight out of a slasher movie, he isn’t suffering.

“Shit!” Hank ends up cursing a second later anyway when his fingers keep slipping and he can’t get that bit of cloth to tie together. He’s starting to realize that this isn’t going anywhere, because he’s trying to fix a high tech machine that is worth thousands of dollars with a ripped up fucking _washcloth_ and a bunch of string. For a moment, he allows himself to fall back into a helpless sitting position before the tub. Allows the panic and severity of this situation to take over. Connor doesn’t want to die, this is his second chance at a mess like this and he’s _still_ fucking it up, and all the odds are _still_ telling him that there’s nothing they can do. Because no one’s around to help his son, no professional, just a flimsy, idiotic human who is trying his best like that android back then, though he’s terribly out of his league. After a moment of nearly collapsing to that realization and terror, he forces himself to get his shit together once again. If Connor can’t get into the car and they can’t cross the border, they definitely need to get help _here_. Fast. Just stopping the bleeding with a bunch of string isn’t enough.

He runs for the living room. Finds that pen and paper. Finds his phone. Gets back to Connor, who hasn’t given up yet either, is using each and every one of those ripped up pieces of cloth to try to stitch himself together. Still tying tiny tubes together. And bigger ones. Tying them up so they stop leaking.

Hank stumbles back inside the bathroom and slips on some Thirium on the tiles, banging his head on the sink on his way down but he doesn’t care. Although his ears are ringing and it hurts, he still gets back to the tub and presses the messy piece of paper against the side of it, pen in his shaky hand.

“Okay. What’re the most vital things you need so that you’ll be able to cross the border.”

“Hank, I…my series is no longer in prod…”

“I don’t give a shit! Tell me exactly what you need. Part numbers, spare parts, tools, anything.”

They look at each other for a moment, Hank desperate and almost insane with worry at this point, while Connor looks confused and has almost started to reach a state of…defeat. Hank wins the silent fight in the end, and Connor starts reciting neutrally.

“At least one gallon of Thirium 310. RK800 line biocomponents #8456w, #1995r and #9782f, 3ft of spare tubing, a standard Cyberlife repair toolkit..”

Hank starts scribbling all of that down with shaking hands, listening carefully although he doesn’t understand any of this. Connor seems to pick up on it because he soon trails off and stops, starts looking at him instead.

“Hank, we’re in provincial Canada. You’re not going to find any of this here in time.  I’m…My system says I’m going to shut down in 2 hours and 21 minutes.”

“I don’t give a _fuck_ what your system says” the Lieutenant snaps and looks at his partner angrily, trying to ignore everything at his display that tells him otherwise. “Is that everything you need so you don’t shut down” he keeps pressing, but Connor won’t reply to him right away. Instead, he just looks at him for a while. Allows himself to be more and more fragile. Then he answers, although it’s barely audible.

“In theory. But…”

“Good” Hank says and gets on his feet so he can head for the door. He wants to remain like that. Hardened and emotionless to _not_ let get this through to him. But he can’t quite get that right because it _does_. The panic is overwhelming. The uncertainty. That constant _what if_ that tries to catch up to him, whenever he looks at Connor in that tub. Yet he still does it. He stops walking, grows softer, and looks back at him. No matter how much the sight breaks him.

“I’m gonna get you some help, son. Okay? I’m gonna make a few calls and see what I can do. I’m just…gonna head out for a second to get stuff from the car, okay. You just hold on.”

“Okay” Connor says after a moment, still looking way too fucking fragile in that bathtub. Giving him just the smallest nod.

The moment Hank is out of that bathroom, out of the motel room and that icy cold Canadian winter air hits him right in the face like a fist again, he finally allows himself to let lose. He approaches the railing of the upper walkway and holds on to it, leaning forward for just a moment so he can look down. Then he starts to hold on tighter. And tighter. With both his hands clenching around the biting, cold iron until it hurts. Then he starts yanking and shaking at it, kicking the thing over and over again to let it all out. He wants to scream. At the parking lot, this motel, this place, this town, this fucking country and world for doing this all _over_ again, but that scream never comes. He manages to keep it contained, makes it silent so Connor doesn’t hear. But he still lets go of it, because it has been building up ever since he’s stepped foot in that bathroom.

He wishes he could stay out here for a lot longer than that. Wishes he could keep screaming and cursing and fighting and raging and crying for hours on end until he feels better. But he doesn’t have that luxury, and neither does he have the time. Time is running out. He needs to make that call. The option is far from pretty. Far from ideal. Not even that safe or certain. But he’d rather take that 20 something per cent of a shot at this than the absolute zero that were to await him if he didn’t do it at all. Connor is right. This is Canada. Canada doesn’t have androids, or Cyberlife. Which has been exactly the point for them to come here. But now they need it. Need other androids. Need Detroit. Need Cyberlife. Need _something_.

He calls Jeffrey Fowler, for a second time today. A third within a week. Jeffrey always picks up. No matter how many times he berates him over it whenever he does.

“ _You really do have a death wish, don’t you”_ Jeffrey greets him after the third ring, sounding as pissed and as fed up as he ever can be.

“ _Hank. What the_ _f…_ _”_

“Connor is dying, Jeffrey. Connor is fucking _dying_ right now” he interrupts him, and just for a moment, he does want to cry. This wouldn’t be the first time that he’s doing it. During that first week after Cole’s funeral, he’s done the same thing. Calling Jeffrey. Only with a different text of course. _My son is dead, Jeffrey_. _My son is fucking dead._ Incredibly drunk. Incredibly heartbroken, and utterly destroyed, with a gun in his hand. His service weapon and a full clip. Back then, he’d never known who else to call either. His wife had never felt right with that kind of thing because he didn’t want to rub it in for her too. Despite his attitude, Jeffrey had always been there. His oldest friend. Which is why he’ll call him. Again and again.

“He saved the kid. Not me. He did. And he took a dive in front of me to catch a bullet. He took _two fucking bullets_ for me and now he’s dying Jeffrey.”

This is the first time in god knows how long that Jeffrey Fowler is silent. Doesn’t belittle or begrudge the situation. He just listens.

“He’s fucking _dying_ ” Hank says and now, he finally loses it. He loses it to that cold silence, right here.

“ _What do you need me to do”_ Jeffrey says after a moment. Serious and patient, and most of all professional. Hank cries for a moment longer and kicks the iron railing again, punching it once to get it back together. Then he sniffs harshly and clears his throat, forcing himself to get his bearings right.

“That android. RK900, he still at the station? You got his number?”

“ _I can get that for you, no problem. What else you need, Hank? Are you alright?”_

“That depends on how all of this is gonna go, Jeffrey. That depends” he says in all honesty, which his old friend obviously doesn’t like at all.

“ _Hank, listen. This is not the same as your son, it’s just…_ ”

“Jesus Jeffrey, I swear to fucking Christ. If you say he’s ‘just an android’ now I’m going to get into my car, drive for four hours straight just so I can come and personally break your fucking neck for this. That kid risked his _life_ for me. He just saved a fucking _kid_ from some kidnapping psychos. He’s _not_ just an android. He’s more of a man than half that fucking station of ours combined.”

“ _Hey, don’t you talk to me like that when…_ ”

“Just give me the number Jeffrey. I am fucking _begging_ you here, okay.  I’m willing to go on 50 fucking years of desk duty and will wipe your ass every day from now on if you just back me up this one time.”

After a moment of silence, his phone vibrates against his ear.

“ _That android better be worth your neck”_ Jeffrey says and hangs up on him, before Hank gets to say something else. He moves the phone away from his ear so he can take a look at what has made it vibrate, and of course it is a message from Jeffrey.

 _New Message_  
Received on 12/25/2038, 05:37pm  
>>Select to read<<<  
**Jeffrey:**

 _Forwarded Contact  
__RK900_ _#313 248 317 – 87_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> little bro to the rescue! Or not?


End file.
